Women like her

I used to think of women

like her. That they had

Husbands who rubbed 

their shoulders and children

who went to school on buses that left

before seven.

They lived in gracious, clean

houses with lawns

as green as limes

from a Caribbean backyard.

I used to think - I cannot reach that

Kind even if I stand on the front edges

of my shoes and rock the tree.  

Even if my pardna give me wings.

I got the low hangers.

But she is sitting alone. 

She is drawing shapes on to the 

countertop.

She is dreaming of life

like I am

with Caribbean limes bouncing high

on branches in our backyard.