Leaving Town - A poem

I move a sofa, shift a chair, 
Wondering if 
I should change the way I wear my hair
Pondering on the irrevocability of scissors and bleach

And what if tomorrow is just the same,
Not shamed into a shop-shiny newness
By the daring brevity of my tresses?

I re-pot a stubbornly flowerless rose
Wondering if
I should change the way I wear my teeth
Pondering on the irreversibility of the dentist’s drill

And what if tomorrow is just the same
Not coerced into a glint-minty freshness
By the blinding perfection of my thirty-two’s?

But surely, I think
A little more cleavage, a little less shy
A little more swing
In the hips, but 
A little less thigh
Perhaps even a new kitty
In the tank
Should do the trick
Shouldn’t it?

Out with the old and out
The till-now-never-used
All there, somewhere
I know

I rummage
Till I run smack
Into
My mind
And then, I know
There’re no place to run