in her mind

in her mind
she's not in a brick one level
house
in the middle of southern
Maryland
with a dirt yard
and chickens and goats across
the scrub brush, the stale
pond.
she's not staring at
a rerun of another world
with seven antique strangers
on a pleather couch,
with her socked feet up
waiting for the dinner
bell to ring.
no. in her mind she's at
the waldorf Astoria,
waiting on room service
and for someone
to get her a club sandwich
and a gin and tonic,
comfy in her thick robe,
her children on
the phone, her dog at her
feet keeping
her toes warm.