I see her
at 12:34 in the afternoon,
all dressed up in blue—
and won’t she
be beautiful?
big brown eyes,
she’ll be hearing
Van Morrison
down every avenue,
sung by
slick men
and starving boys
but for now
she’s still small,
on the edge of
the end of
innocence—
the world will make sure of it,
she’ll be all grown up
in high heels two sizes too big
with cherry red lips
and plastic skin
and they’ll all promise her
they’ll love her
even after—
and she’ll believe them
because
she’s only been young for
a minute,
but she’s always been
beautiful
and to them
that’s all
that matters