At seventeen your thoughts
were younger than your face
and your smile mirrored in dishwater
was Mississippi pleasant
you had large eyes and larger hopes of
marrying somebody rich
or famous or something
you settled for a little house
so close to the tracks that the sound of a train
shook some of everything
you settled for a boy
with eyes larger than your own
you settled for dishwater
just as deep as that you knew at home…
