by Gloria Heffernan
Someday I will drink from the Fountain of Youth
and it will taste like champagne
pouring from diamond studded clouds
to erase the frown lines and the laugh lines
and the unread lines of my aging face,
until I am 21 again and this time I will know
how to be young.
“Today, cool clean water poured from the faucet.”
Someday I will ride an elephant in Thailand,
sitting astride his bristled back
my hips undulating with each thunderous step.
And he will lift his trunk and blow like Dizzie Gillespie
heralding my arrival at the outskirts of Bangkok
where he will wrap his trunk around my waist
and lower me gently to the ground.
“Today, our dog greeted me like Argus when I came home from work.”
Someday I will learn to speak French
and stroll the Orangerie at Versailles
Et je vais l’odeur orange fleurs
qui fleurissent dans les jardins
And men whose lips drip Baudelaire
will perfume me with orange blossoms
and scatter the petals a mes pieds.
“Today, my husband brought me French Roast coffee in bed.”
Someday I will dine at a five-star restaurant
where a tuxedoed waiter will pull out my chair and
lay a linen napkin in my lap and call me Madame
and the shaved truffles will taste like a rare delicacy
instead of the sweaty socks they actually smell like,
and I will savor them knowingly
as candle light flickers through the crystal goblets.
“Today I had enough to eat.”
Gloria Heffernan’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Pleiades, The Columbia Review, The Comstock Review, Parody, Grey Sparrow Journal, Lost Coast Review, Still Crazy, Stone Canoe, The Healing Muse, The Wayfarer, Two Words For, and The New York Times Metropolitan Diary. Her essays have appeared in numerous publications including The Chronicle of Higher Education, Radiance Magazine, and an upcoming issue of Talking Writing. Gloria teaches part-time at Le Moyne College in Syracuse, New York, and holds a Master’s Degree in English from New York University.