Sister chattered on about when she grows up.
"I'll want a clawfoot tub."
Snuck Twinkies crinkling in bed.
Mom stopped practicing, poked her head in.
"Stop that."
"And beads in the doorway!"

In high school, Mom said,
"Understand what the piano is saying.
Get with it. Get with the programmatic."

Mom said Mom said Mom said.
Sister thinks the piano doesn't mean what it says.

She grew up, now wants an art class.
Teach em a thingertwo.
Or a rhubarb suburb
pick your own
vase on the mantel
showers instead of baths
marry some man, drink martinis.
If marriage isn't the thing, boyfriends
girlfriends. Invest in show dogs.
Or try to pet kittens
fingers through the cages.
Pets—! Who'll feed em?
Egypt is the place.
Trip to Cairo, high-rises, Giza triangles
—or Elvis's Memphis. I bet he could get a piano
to mean something.
I don't know, maybe I'll
get gigs singing or
open a saloon or a
can of tuna.
Or lasso a guy, get him talking.
                            I could do anything.