Wanted: Wiles of a Woman

It was fleeting,
the fantasy
To think that I could
really have it
Every preceding step
leading to the life
I had envisioned for two decades,
Mais non
Behind the scenes
raw footage
year after year
a documentary
intractable words
harsh lighting
Oh, but for those glimpses
the trailers
so enticing
Could this really be?
The downy comforter and solid,
cherry wood head board
Are those my children?
I map it all out
Figure the finances
And that's just it...
There are no spreadsheets in fantasies.
Fleeting
Foolish
Fool
When another woman will
place every card on the table
and mine are still in the deck
stuffed in the back of the junk drawer
in the kitchenette
of a duplex
in suburbia
She wins.
But I like my card deck.
My grandmother told my fortune
with this card deck
On Rendon St.
As she dropped teaspoons of her chicory coffee
into my milk
and pretended that when I broke the deck into three neat piles
that every number and face brought light
despite the spades
Fiction.
Make believe.
When all else is fleeting...
when passions
trump what could be
I still have story.
The other woman has one who weakens
at any woman's wiles.
She's but an extra.
Replaceable.
The leading lady
never gives up.