Julianna Pasquarello
Fenced in
I was born to the sounds of the suburbs
Whitepicket fences
whispering my name.
Icecream trucks singing their repetitive
songs,
Slowly approaching- Crescendo.
The smells of latenight July barbeques,
roasted corn,
Pop-97 tunes
singing me to sleep.
I grew up to the sounds of the Laguardia planes,
Watching their twisted
turns,
Dancing far off into the expanse- Somewhere, somehow.
Farewell, shows over.
I learned in Elementary school.
The lives of the greats- Napoleon, Da Vinci, Christopher Columbus.
I was told honey, you can be whatever
You want to be.
Travel wherever
You wish
to go if you dream
Hard enough..
I dreamed of sleeping on white airplane wings
Of 1492, sailing the ocean blue,
Of foreign lands, exotic foods.
Only to learn,
That adventure has no time for a woman
In highheeled shoes.
Picket fence, two children, one dog.
The only song a women
Is told to sing- Is the suburban blues.
Decrescendo.
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