Shoe Lesson

I was in the midst of my thirty-fourth year
when a high-heeled shoe pounded
out the last of my illusions.

 

So many dreams squashed!
I believed I would be the one
to break the love barriers

 



In my dreams, patience was not tried
by whining and bickering children,
nor made worse by disappointment at work.

 



Dream children wore pink tutus.
Dream mothers, beatific smiles,
briefcase in one hand, cupcakes in the other.

 



My dreams didn’t have migraines. No smug male
co-workers excluded me from meetings there.
No self-involved ex husbands gave no help at all.

 


And never would dream-me chase two
cranky little girls up a staircase,
slamming 
the steps after them, my shoe a hammer.

 

  32 years later and I can still see their
wrinkled little brows, their wide, worried eyes.