They laughed when I asked
for pancetta,
those grocery store clerks.
I don’t care.
It’s better to be chic
than to lie
in some bland corner
of a room,
wilting and frumpy.
What do I care
for the woman
who never dares to wear
a houndstooth jacket?
It’s up to us to set
the speed of our lives.
Audrey, for instance,
could dazzle
simply by placing
an ordinary swatch
against her skin:
chiffon, silk, organza.
To the nay-sayers I say
if you choose to live
like toads why should I care?
It would have been easier
to ask for Italian bacon.
But isn’t it better
to be swift than rushed?
Better to be svelte than thin?
Better to seek than to settle?
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