I went to Wal-Mart, the other day
To buy you a shower curtain.
Not just any shower curtain, if I do say so myself,
But the perfect shower curtain.
I wanted a shower curtain that would describe you, as a person.
A shower curtain so wonderful
And weird
And uniquely you
That everyone that saw it would say,
"****!  That's a fine shower curtain!"
And what's more, they would know,
Beyond a shadow of a doubt,
That it was your shower curtain.
No one else's.

I didn't find it.

I'm sorry.  I am.
I tried to get one that fit
Your style, your class, your ******* beauty,
But I'm not sure it exists.

First, I tried to find one that smelled like fresh-cut flowers
After a rainstorm
In the Amazon.
Then, I thought about trying to find
Something that would match the color of your eyes,
But I don't think they've invented a material
That starts out sea green
Then changes to iron gray when you're happy,
Sky blue when you're sad,
And a mix of all three when you're angry,
Like a technicolor warning system.

So I looked for one patterned with cartoon owls.
Because I know you're scared of birds,
And the best time to face any fear
Is in the morning.
And the best way
Is as a cartoon.

They didn't have one printed with your favorite song,
Or one made entirely of white lillies,
Or one cut into the shape of every snowflake
From every snowball
You've ever fired,
With the accuracy of the captain of the softball team,
Directly at my head.

I tried to find one with your vicious brand of humor
That I find so compelling,
But they don't make a shower curtain
That insults your mother,
Then gives you a kiss on the chin
Because it can't reach your nose.

I went to Wal-Mart to buy you a shower curtain.

So I bought the only one they had
That I could justify
Because nothing else would have fit.
I bought one that is translucent,
So that if I walk in on you one morning-

By accident, of course-

When you are busy washing your hair
As you sing Elvis songs,
I'll be able to see you,
Without seeing everything.

There is a girl behind the curtain
In front is the stage
In front of the stage is the audience
They mill about, not knowing there is an actress about to be placed before them
She comes out and starts to act
On her face is the mask of beauty
The mask smiles all day
Her legs are lined with machines that make her walk gracefully
As if she were a dancer
Her arms are poised correctly
Her eyes are always watching, attentive to what is going on around her
She is perfect
Envied by all
Why?
They want to be like her in every way
The show is done now and the captivated audience is stunned and amazed
"How does she do it?" they ask
But they are blind to the gadgets she uses as she acts
When she goes behind the curtain the mask and machines come off
Behind the curtain she's ordinary
Maybe even a bit sad
When she walks, she is no longer graceful
But walks with her head down and  her blank eyes stare at the floor
Her face is downcast
She doesn't smile behind the curtain
There are not many people behind the curtain
Maybe one or two
Sometimes not even that many
At one time, when she was young
There was not curtain
She was not expected to be beautiful
She was not expected to be graceful
She was not expected to be someone she wasn't
She was not expected to live up to high expectations
Now older, she is expected to be beautiful
Graceful
And to act accordingly in all situations
No one from the audience has seen the face behind the mask
They do not know her at all
They might know her name
But they don't know her
Behind the curtain, she weeps
Realizing she might never be able to be herself in front of the audience
To show them she is just as ordinary as they are
That she is not as different as they think she is
That she is not so set apart from them as they might assume
She would need great strength and courage
Two things she lacks much
...
After many years of the masks and machines
This girl, she hates the mask
She hates the machines
She hates being fake
She comes up with a plan
One by one, she will remove an item before she goes from behind the curtain to the audience
A year goes by...
She has removed the very last item: the mask
The audience gasps, "what has happened to her?"
"Wasn't she once beautiful, graceful, like an angel?"
She tells them, "do you not see?
"That mask was not me
"Those machines were not me
"Those things were not me
"I'm not as different as you think.
"We are not so different
"Do you not want to see who I really am?"
But they continue their derogatory comments
And she goes back behind the curtain, weeping
She moves to a different crowd, eventually
Knowing she could never face her familiar crowd again
Once again, she comes out from behind the curtain
She doesn't have the machines on or the mask
She is brave to do this
This different crowd shuns her as well
Saying, "she is not beautiful enough to be here."
Again, she moves to a different crowd, hoping they will accept her as she is
They don't either
Eventually she comes to like her place behind the curtain
But is it a curtain anymore?
No, it's brick wall
There's a door, yes
But it's hard to find
No one has found it yet
She goes through this door to act, adding different masks and different gadgets to her collection
Because she was forced back to her fake self
No one has found this door
So she continues her act as the beautiful, graceful one.
She is once again envied by all
And even though she is still sick of the cover-ups
She knows better than to try to take them off