Lipstick, by Diana Raab

by Diana Raab
      dedicated to Billy Collins

I spin my red convertible sports car
on the dead end street
and go back to my house to get my red lipstick,
because without it, I feel naked
and while rummaging
through my vanity drawer
I glance out the window
to see another me in your heart,
who already appeared in town without her lipstick
and this pattern continues
for the rest of my life—
imagining a person
who always gets somewhere before me
and waits patiently
for what might have been forgotten
while remaining invisible
except in my own mind
as if there were a copy cat
or a stalker to myself,
but a glance in the vanity’s mirror
shows my duplicate, and her eyes
are not as green, nor her hair as thick,
and I stand up with the lipstick in my right hand
and get into the driver’s seat to see that she is already gone.

Diana Raab, PhD, is a poet, memoirist and thought-provoker. She’s the author of 8 books and editor of 2 anthologies. Her book, Writing for Bliss, is forthcoming in September 2017. Diana’s website


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