Entrepreneurial Zest

entrepreneurial zest

And then it occurred to me. Holding this object before my eyes. Like de-ja-vu. My head gets fuzzy. I lean on my right foot as I balance the object and regain composure. Has this day happened before? Am I reliving a dream? It's hard to put into words. It's scary and exuberating. I look over to the bed. She's still there. Angelic, wonderful, and softly sleeping. But I feel a short-lived sense of disappointment. Predictable. Constrained. Another day down the hatch. Sun goes up. Sun goes down. Work. Sleep. Eat. Fuck. Fight. Shit. Repeat... All this from a box of hair-dye. Black is the color. Bought from the local super-store. Stocked incessantly with packaged, industrial, Americana entrepreneurial zest. In an aisle designed for art supplies and women's hair needs. All the boxes a pretty face. Elusive. Ecstatic. As if to say, "Yay, look at me. I'm full. I'm happy. Put the kids to bed. Have a martini. Pop on the T.V. Life's dull. No control. Husband's a mess. In the bathroom staring into the mirror. I need a change" Poof!!! Sexxyyy-sex-sex-sexxy.. Color. Hair. Make-up. Goblets. Cream. Scrubs. Soaps. Lather. Water Soaking & scheming. Forget monthly bleeding. Forget the mascara-ing and casserole preparing. Parades and little-league games. The checkout stand. Impulse buys. Gum, candy, and gossip mags. Who gives a shit? No-talent picture book faces. Pop success story. Once Mickey ears. Grew up, wore a sluttish outfit. Paraded on gluttonTV. Hard-on's rejoice. All the country stands at attention. Or so they want it to seem. The day winds down. New hair. Thinner wallet.. Spent plastic card. T.V. Sleep. Alarm clock. Wahhh!! whahh!!! wah! whahhh!!!