The Winter I was 15

I had everything and white knuckles
metallic two way mirrors
a kink in a slinky
A dent in Ray Ban sunglasses
And a greasy trailer hitch on a Mercedes.
I wore a baggy pencil skirt
While toupee tape held my tube top on
Chinese characters danced on my French manicure
A red pea-coat hung in my closet to wear in snow.

A photographer clung to a chain link fence
To capture the coat against the Oreo dust grey sky.
But it’s not me wearing it.
I don’t have perfect eyebrow tweezer shaped legs
Or the starry grin that makes pigeons sway on street lamps
I don’t have matching lacey bras and panties
Or Peonies in a Safeway vase from the handsome boy on the corner.

But I get to swing my legs on chain link fences
And watch the girl I should be in my red coat
Flag aimlessly at mustard taxis
While I lightly dance along telephone lines all the way home
Blood returned to my knuckles and flushed my cheeks
What I’ve got’s better