The fanciful girl with hair in curlers
laughs at her inverted existence.

We dream to make the world more interesting,
her only moral absolute.

The plastic diamond necklaces
are chains around her neck,
red lipstick is a garish neon sign
erected for the benefit of the blind.

All the red silk scarves in the world
can't buy the attention
of the one you want.

The child in the mirror laughs;
she is not yet accustomed
to my particular brand of self-denial.

For her, each slight glance is a tender caress.
She passes unnoticed for pages,
fading carefully from view.

Each mention is a resurrection,
a new life for the invisible girl
who wears her red dress
as an advertisement.