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Her tattoo May 8, 2015

Posted by vsap in Blogroll, Poetry.
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She got the tattoo when she was seventeen, her Goth stage
A skull with red eyes and gold teeth, one with a diamond in it
Having it perched at the top of right shoulder,
About six inches down and three inches wide, she wore it with a singular pride

Black tank tops, black lipstick and rave-ups gave way to other priorities
She got serious in college and chose business administration
She liked numbers, she had a knack, and working Wall Street
Replaced her dream of biker-gang freedom, the never-ending Sturgis

New York City didn’t offer an endless summer, but there were better things
Yet, what to do with the tattoo? She wouldn’t be untrue to herself
But she was smart enough to know that a Fortune 500 firm
Might not accept her freedom of expression as freely as she did

She wasn’t ashamed, she told herself, dressing in smart business suits
For one interview after another until she landed where she could
She thought, how would I explain it to a lover or a friend, a skull, really?
By the end of her first week, she was ready for a tank top and a drink

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