Ode To Umbra

Where is she now?
The backseat Queen of fraternity
Where is she now?
She is heavy of thigh and light on integrity
Someone should've told her
When beauty's all you offer
Too soon the world's discover that your beauty's gone
(It's gone)

Nanci Griffith-
Drive-in Movies and Dashboard Lights

Ode to Umbra

She is impossible not to see. She is a Macy’s float perpetually on the horizon of the American landscape. She’s created her own endless parade. She blocks my view. Overstuffed, full of hotness. And I don’t even watch TV.
In artless, pornish poses she leers at me at the checkout when I try to buy some lettuce.
Eyes heavily lidded and gilded, mouth open for easy access.
A mouth made only for incoming, nothing of worth comes out except an occasional ode to umbra.
I once heard her billionaire mother, earnestly share that all she wanted for her first born was for “no one to be mean to her.” I can understand. I can’t understand.
Perhaps she wonders how a beloved daughter could become fodder for late-night talk show host’s vitriolic humor. How most of the public would cheer to see her head roll (if only they had access to a guillotine-perhaps Springer can hook them up). Modern Marie Antoinette (but not as interesting).
Her father may wonder how a thing of such beauty, his muse, his inspiration for hotel masterpieces, could be so universally detested.

She resembles what father idolizes; beautifully manicured facade, with many people passing in and out. No emotional attachments, just a brief intermingling and an abundant flow of cash.

Not that she hasn’t tried. Her attempt to corner the market on her catch phrase caught flame briefly, then burnt out. Blown out. “That’s hot,“ performed in monotone, sprinkled like glitter-went cold. Fell flat on broke ears.
A good lesson for indulgent parents. See, she is useful for something.

Beauty fades, perhaps her mother shared at least that much.
No problem. All the best surgeons are lurking in her blackberry. Money is no object.
The true surprise: she didn’t know that lasting beauty needs internal props. The it springs from hidden places -concealed without concealer. Didn't understand that if you lack integrity, you can go to bed beautiful and wake up a pumpkin. Midnight will eventually strike. The illusion can be shredded like Cinderella’s pink dress and the selfless sister in need of a makeover will go on to the ball.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Christina S. (csanant)

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Comments 1 to 5 of 5

IONE L. (zaneygraylady) - 6/11/2007 7:13 PM ET

I really like this. Poor Paris and her shallow life. I hope she learns someday.

Silvercat - - 6/12/2007 12:54 AM ET

A beautiful commentary! It is so sad to see such a young woman stripped of all innocence Her loss is hers alone to bear.

Lena S. (SquirrelNutkin) - 6/12/2007 7:21 AM ET

This was so well written......it's so sad that she has everything and nothing at the same time

Amanda R. (amandaripsam) - 6/15/2007 5:54 PM ET

I liked this is beautiful

Lindsey B. (Lindsey) - 6/21/2007 10:29 AM ET

I identified with a lot of this, particularly "In artless, pornish poses she leers at me at the checkout when I try to buy some lettuce." I don't watch TV either, but I still see her far more than I care to. It's hard to go anywhere without finding out about her most recent endeavor. It's front-page news sometimes, and it's just empty, inconsequential gossip. One of my favorite lines is, "She resembles what father idolizes; beautifully manicured facade, with many people passing in and out. No emotional attachments, just a brief intermingling and an abundant flow of cash." This is really brilliant. Great piece of writing.

Comments 1 to 5 of 5

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The Eclectic Pen - Ode To Umbra

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