How To Dress For The Park

I raced to the park, my energy level on low,

To give baby gifts of two dresses with a bow,

I cast an eye on my attire, noting a moth hole or two,

But I was only going to the park, not to some fancy do,

The park was rather full for a Tuesday late afternoon,

Mostly mothers with their kids in a playground cocoon,

I figured I would deposit the present and then dash back,

When I was stopped by a wall of words, with a rude, angry whack,

A mother who I knew vaguely was looking me up and down,

Her eyes fixed while her face creased into a frown,

Look at how you look she cried, no babies, no excuse,

I apologized about my tee shirt, turning a shade of puce,

But it was not just the holes that offended her, also my face,

Apparently, my hair color and eyebrows were a disgrace,

She went on and on vomiting that I looked so very bad,

Knocking away at any false illusions that I may have had,

I wish I could say that I did not care one little bit,

That her comments were her problem, her own sad shit,

But I like my usual dress style, aimed at creating confusion,

No pruning or plastic masks, only bohemia chic fusion,

Which had confused today as dashing hope and even poking fun,

At certain mums desperate for when their park days would be done.

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