She is ready,
purse packed,
hands pocketed in resolution,
standing by her charge.
Will she fly through puffball clouds,
piercing azure heavens like a needle?
Or will she cruise majestically across the land,
blowing tumbleweeds and sagebrush in her wake?
Perhaps the sea shall feel the power of her legs,
the undulations of her mermaid form.
For she is ready,
her glowing hair pinned sleekly back,
the keys clutched in her hand.
She is the girl with the ’55 Plymouth fins.
---William Everett