Yvette isn’t young no more
Though she’s still eighteen
She’s taking night school
Works three jobs
The real American dream.
She lights candles from
The corner store
Before she goes to sleep
Talks to Mother Mary
God has no time this week.
She serves coffee to the richest
The most powerful in the land
And wonders what it’s like
To never fall but only land.
She puts on makeup
In the restroom and ties her
hair upon her head.
She reads the L.A. Times on slow shifts
Looks at Oprah on her phone.
She gets yelled at by the boss man,
You work hard or you go home.
Now she’s sitting by the ocean
Holding her head between her hands.
Yvette takes her shoes and socks off
And wades into the shore
She looks south into the distance
She looks north and kicks the sand
When a young man saunters over
She’ll give him all the love she can.
Now the years go by so quickly
Now her baby turned eighteen
And she’s putting on her makeup
Kissing mama on the head.
Yvette’s knees ain’t what they once were
She still lights candles
And still dreams.
Sara Hershkowitz is an opera singer, writer, activist and teacher. Born in Los Angeles, she currently divides her time between Berlin and L.A.
