Snapshots

I think part of the reason I like poetry
Is because my creative mind often thinks in snapshots,
Single images that tell a story.

The reflection of neon lights glinting off wet pavement at night,
I fantasize that I’m leaving a night club in the wee hours of morning.
In reality, I’m leaving a diner at about 8 pm.

I’m in an Uber with cracked back windows,
I swear I see shoe prints on the door beside me.
I fantasize that I’ve just thrown caution to the wind and left my life behind to restart somewhere far and new.
In reality, I have a sneaking suspicion that, if my boyfriend wasn’t with me, I’d have been abducted.
The fear is palpable and I can’t wait to get out of the car.

The sweet, perfume-y scent of a department store,
The mannequins are clothed in flowing gowns and the jewelry cases bewitch me with their sparkling contents,
I fantasize that I’m dressed head to toe in high fashion,
I’m strutting down some nondescript city street, powerful and expensive.
“Donatella” by Lady Gaga plays in the background as I walk,
That’s right, I’m such a boss that I command my own soundtrack.
In reality, I can’t afford any of it and I’m too tired to put on makeup in the morning.

I’ve imagined a white-sand beach with aqua-colored waves crashing against it.
Sipping rosè while looking at the sunset through rose-colored glasses.
Dancing through the streets of Paris with a stranger, both of us wearing tap shoes.
Eating ice cream at the top of Mount Everest.
In reality, I’m in bed by 10 pm.