Zebra stripes, frivolous trollop lip plumper, black Gucci stilettos
Exotic curls, skin tight satin dress, my new Louis Vuitton clutch
Sashay I may, down the streets of the city,
Heads do turn
Whistles do sound
Drinks are easily paid for
And I never go home alone.
One killer smile, a light peck on the cheek,
A little fluttering of my Chanel coated eyelashes.
I need nothing more. This city gives me everything.
Harry Winston always has the time of day.
Tiffany's never leaves my ears feeling bare.
David Yurman is the rock on my finger
And Coco keeps me warm in the winter.
Dolce keeps me smelling like dulce
Minolos may as well be milanos
And Ralph will always keep my closet classy.
I may be seventeen and a resident of the upper east side
But I can no longer use spring as my alibi.

The money will end, the jeans will fade,
And even my David Yurman won't last forever.
The dress will rip,
The hair will loose its bounce
And the lip gloss will smear.
In the end the heads won't turn
The whistles will die down.
There will be no drinks
Only lonely cab rides uptown.

I may be seventeen now
But these spring days will end.
That will be the day I will trash my Vogue
pull off the French tips and
trade in my minolos for a plane ticket.
You may reject me now, and
Claim to love your life.
But your life there is as complete as mine is here.

Like chipping nail polish
Cold coffee
A ripped letter
flickering lights
A wax-dripping candle
Cracked china
And a broken heart.

You disapprove of my life
My many flings
Long island iced teas
Midnight puffs
but the day has come
when I blow out the candles
and count all 18.

The spring days have ended, the caps have flown through the air
The cake has been cut and eaten/
The bags packed, my room ready to become a sewing room
The books bought, the electives chosen
The cab arrives. I say my last goodbyes.
Tears do fall, I will miss the big apple

But my tears weren't of grief but of joy.
I had been waiting two years and the time had come
To travel those 975 miles and never look back.
I didn't have to worry about carrying a hankerchief
My Chanel was waterproof.

I couldn't help but wonder,
What would happen when I dragged my bags up the stairs
Laid my Miss Sixtys in the drawers and aligned my bathroom with
Fruity soaps.

Where would you be?
On the football field?
Driving around this small town?
Could this city girl give up her life
Come to this small town all for a guy?

Not a cab in sight.
No noise.
Just land.
People: all the same.
Here it was: the life I would have to embrace for four years.

But as long as
You are still you
I am still me
And we were still us
Nothing else in the world matters.