This poem was found on the author's internet Blogspot.

It's been a long time
since I've gone out,
casting lines & fishnet
stockings, stocking up
on stories, taking stock
of what I've lived,

and where I've gone,
and what I've done -

- long time -

well, maybe someday
I'll be able
to listen to a slow sad song
without the ghosts of werewolves
forever creeping up motel steps,
and suspended bridges
dangling between places
no one visits anymore,
and husbands who were never
where they should have been -

- maybe someday -
but I don't know that I'd want to.

I lived my early years
as a thirty-year-old woman,
cautious, routine-oriented, just a little bit
desperate. I found youth late, was late
to the party, was grateful
the bar was open still,
overdid it a bit.
I'm pushing thirty now, hard
like a door in heavy wind,

and I don't mind, I know
it swings both ways
if you push hard enough -

- but I don't want to, now -

I'm listening to Joni Mitchell,
who's looked at life from both sides now,
31 years apart.

Listening to Joni Mitchell,
drinking coffee on a rainy day,
and for now, it all makes sense,
even to the ghosts.

(Contributed by Laura Oppermann)