I Think I . . .

If I left tomorrow
and went to that perfumed place
the one where they cut your hair
and I worked there
and made my hair red
fire engine red
not Irish beauty red
and if I wore those clothes and those
spangly things that insinuate
themselves into your flesh
those tight shrink-wrapped things
and if I put on pink lipstick and make-up
and if I got those long nails
the ones that sparkle
and are long and would
make my stubby hands wrap all the way
around the wheel . . .
I would feel like a woman