Bottle Blonde

Bottle Blonde

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

I'm sitting on the back porch of a house I've never been to before, talking about a boy who thinks I'm good, but that I'm not good enough for.

Or maybe, he's not good enough for me.

The Bottle Blonde who's listening strums ukulele that she never learned how to play and finishes off her third cigarette.

When she isn't busy blowing smoke, she talks a lot.

I do too, but I've learned that listening is sometimes more gratifying; the challenge is knowing when it's time to speak up.

I think he holds my hand to keep himself steady sometimes. He wouldn't be the first person to do that.

Bottle Blonde tells me that I'm smart and strong, and that boys want that but don't know how to hold onto it;

Then she offers me a cigarette and I politely decline.

"You're a good girl with a couple shades of grey. This world needs more of you."

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