Poem Of The Day #52 "How red? How beautiful." Touching the waxy petals, smelling the non-existent fragrance, she says, "beautiful flowers, but ugly root. Don't you think?" "It's like people. You know, people with pretty face, but ugly feet. We all have ugly feet." I say to her. "Haha, that's because we don't do manicure or pedicure. It's always save money for this, and save money for that. I am tired of it all. Let's go for a nail appointment, and a facial. Afterwards let's go to a hair salon to dye our hair red, blue, or green." She says enthusiastically. "What is this? A new look? A revolution? There's enough disturbances in the world." I frown, feigning a doubt, but deep inside I feel that I like the idea, for inexplicable reasons. None of us had a rebellious youth, and we end up dreaming of it for the rest of our life. We start to imagine a life that's unrealistic, an expensive trip we can't afford, a romance that's out of this world, a black jack windfall that's sure to unfold. She says, "Oh, well. it feels good." I say, "Women's group fantasy, pure delusion." She says, "Without it, reality will be unbearable."