Half mortal, half witch,
a twitch of my pert freckled nose
will bring tuxedoed warlock minions
bearing strawberry ice cream
with rainbow sprinkles,
Malibu Barbie dolls
and the head of nosy neighbor
Gladys Kravitz on a silver platter.
I crave chaos and mayhem.
I want to be Tabitha Stephens
and pursue a career
beyond Friday-night situation comedies,
escape Mother’s watchful green eyes,
Daddy’s sweaty neuroses,
and the inconvenience
of my flame-haired granny arriving
unannounced at all hours.
I want to be Tabitha Stephens.
I will get breast implants,
pose for Hustler and
reinvent myself as an adult film star.
Adam 22 will be my new best friend.
I will not have as many Instagram followers
as Kylie Jenner or Kim Kardashian.
I won’t be making rainbow fruit platters
with Meghan Markle in her fake Montecito kitchen.
But I do plan to create a fetish wear line
of plaid smocked 1970s dresses
for the Home Shopping Network.
Mary Jane shoes,
Uncle Arthur’s top hat,and white knee socks—
batteries not included,
each sold separately.