It turns out Heaven is not wheelchair accessible--
Got to keep the feebs out, and I'm
In a double bind for being queer.
Oh, if only I'd not stood high on the steps of the parking structure,
Blathering about being the queen of the world;
No devil ever fell faster,
And I wasn't even sorry about fucking up that guy's Beemer.
My Love, My Love,
Where have you gone?
Are there ramps there,
And is your hair
Still the most glorious thing in the world?
In my ardor, I doze off,
And dream that I am perched in the window of the Barbie bedroom I coveted as a child--
I am so temporarily beautiful that the sun alters its arc to be closer to me,
And my legs are magnificent, whole and strong.
In the window glass?
My real face.
I reach my hands around, every finger ringed and jewelled,
And tap on the far side of the pane--
Let me in, Heaven.
Let me in, My Love.
Oh, pretty girl with the perfect face, so remotely familiar--
Let me in,
I beg you.
For the record, I am not disabled, but I did grow up with a facial disfigurement. They say that the facially disfigured are the only ones who look in the mirror and do not see themselves.