Cyclones
Take me home Toto
back to the firm, hard ground
dirt packed and cracked beneath my feet
Be a good dog
and stop this whirling and spinning
in my brain that causes me such anguish on this balmy Kansas day
Those nasty little flying monkeys
of doubt and insecurity and distrust
won’t let me have any peace
I really want to be a good witch
with a pretty dress and a sparkling tiara and a lilting voice and golden curls
But instead I see a hook nose and a tight-lipped mouth reflected back
when I gaze into my crystal ball
I pedal faster, faster, faster
Never fast enough to outrun the cyclone swirling through my mind
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 