Gingerbread Girl

You can't graph her—
Even 3d,
The woman in my dreams.
She struts and zips and telestutters,
Then vanishes into thin air,
Only to reappear from someplace
That physics formulae finds not feasible.

She has gingerbread for breakfast
And never gains a gram of weight.
She smiles a dazzling set of teeth
At all those who tell her she "can't."
"Can't never could," her backend says
As she shakes it on her way
To the next dimension of her
Impossible dream.

Come to me great queen of the sky!
Shine your confidence my way!
Tell me your slightly off-color jokes
Until my belly cramps from laughter
And my cheek muscles tone like yours.
In the beauty and wisdom and grace of it all,
I'm assured that the self-righteousness of this world's eye
Is but filthy rags of tattered dogma
And chains to hold us to the ground.

But the giggles of her inner children,
The twelve elders of my amygdala,
And even ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredths
Percent Pure Love
Pop around me like champagne bubbles,
And Victory is here!

 

-jenn long