I wanted to be
a less caustic Kurt Vonnegut or
a less condescending Ray Bradbury
with a touch of Holly Hobbie
and maybe a smattering
of Dolly Parton.
I now drive a wagonload of Frank O’Hara
mixed with shredded Mrs. Roper,
though I’m not full-muumuu yet…
Artificial Intelligence tells me I look like
Kate Winslet or Nat King Cole
and while I wish for timeless elegance,
I rather think I’m a goldfish
not far from the final flush.
I may spend more time making shortbread
than poems, but I like to think
when you’re through with me,
you feel you’re reading spirograph art.