Tiptoe Past Bubblegum Faerie
We tiptoe past her, the violets said. She does not like our colors.
They are every hue of violet, purple, and a few are azure blue.
But you are beautiful, I assure them. They scoff at my innocence.
You are naïve’ they tell me, but we like you anyway.
She would transmogrify us into pink tulips or Pepto Bismol roses.
I laugh at the thought, realizing I have never seen violets like that.
We kid you not, they tell me. When you meet her, do not make eye contact.
How can I meet her without it? I ask.
They have no answer, for they are posies, not politicians.
They want to be cagey and maniacal, but what flowers are?
I tiptoe past them over the hill where Bubblegum Queen waits.
She is devouring petals from a rose bush when I arrive.
Who do you think you are? She asks me with an air of rudeness.
I am shocked, because I was about to comment on her beauty.
She has pink hair, pink skin, pink lips, and beautiful blue eyes.
But her manner is cold and heartless with a twang of meanness.
Suddenly I remember that outside beauty means nothing.
Weird that I have to relearn this lesson almost every time.
I guess society has done a job on me with their glossy magazines.
I am nobody I tell her. She gives me an arrogant half nod.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022
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