My Alter Ego Wants

a memory. Driving
away from a realized fantasy
of my head tipped back
in a kiss too tall for tip toes
and five shots making the stage
a wide open woman

tonight. I return to my more
monotonous celebrations
and give in to this

awkward
joy
of
shit,
teeth,
drool,
evolving

into coherent babble.
A bliss conundrum

arms stretched wide

palms skykissed - left memory
present, right
a vacant dark blessed void.

Tintinnabulation of titillation.
Each bell ringing

joy gone
joy here
joy comes

again.

Thoughts of a former stage diva accepting her new role.