I was the Cheshire Cat in my purple unitard
with orange gift-wrap ribbon taped on for stripes.
I sang ’Twas Brillig à la Al Jolson in my middle
school enthusiasm to an elementary audience.
My voice surely evaporated in the gymnasium heights.
But there I danced with my cap and cane.
And, really, shouldn’t everyone have a chance
to be the Cheshire Cat? Who doesn’t deserve
the superpower of disappearing into thin air
while your enigmatic smile lingers? How useful. How dis-
concerting. But if we can’t all be the Cheshire Cat,
perhaps we should get a shot at the Mad Hatter.
Most of us could use a little more balmy in our lives.
I could do without anymore Queens or White Rabbits,
but we could use a few more Caterpillars, eh?
I don’t know more than a handful of people who’ve
been the Cheshire Cat. I am one of the lucky few.
And so, so glad not to be Alice.
***

Getting caught up after a couple busy days plus an almost-24-hour internet outage. Good grief! (And how productive it was…)

Today’s poem started with a prompt from Adele Kenny to read “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll. True story, the above. And I’m pretty sure y’all are wishing for a photo of that purple unitard about now…heh. Fat chance.