i look back
on where i'm from
look at the woman
i've become
and the strangest things seem suddenly routine

i look up from my vermouth on the rocks
the gift wrapped wig's
still in the box
of towering velveteen

i put on some make-up
some lavern baker
and pull the wig down
from the shelf

suddenly i'm
miss beehive 1963
until i wake up
and i turn back to myself