Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Image borrowed from Bing


Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz hits the teenage years:

Sure I don't want to go to the Emerald City anyway,
the yellow brick road is for babies and girls with bows in their hair.

I'm going to ditch the lion, the scarecrow and the Tin Man, they could ruin a girl's street cred.

Well, maybe I could keep the Tin Man, he looks a bit like a street theatre act, as long as he doesn't sing or...rust.

I won't go down the yellow brick road, I'll go down this urban path, it looks way more interesting and like there may be a party or something actually happening at the end of it.

Us teenagers wait a yawn of years for something to actually happen...
Aunt Em is so smothering somehow, I don't need her anymore, that bun in her hair makes me feel responsible for her.
I can't be responsible for every one's happiness.

I'm going to take the pigtails out and have rock chick hair. The dress goes first chance - blue gingham, what was I thinking? I'll wear leather or denim, or both if I feel like it.
The ruby slippers can stay, they are cool in a retro way.

So, I'll take the urban path and avoid the broken glass and empty booze bottles. If I don't see them, they are not there.
I'll ring Aunt Em when I get settled, not that I'll miss her or anything or want to hear her voice....
just to stop that voice in my head that says,

'There's no place like home'.

Brigid O'Connor

Posted over on her site Sort of Writing
Listed as #34 over on Magpie Tales 51

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