being daisy buchanan

on a day between winter and summer that does not feel like spring
i stand in the mirror and pinch my cheeks 'til my eyes water
to make them look like roses.
i put on my great grandmother's gray cloche hat
and pretend i am a famous actress playing daisy buchanan
in the great gatsby.
teary eyed, i gaze beyond my own reflection
and listen to that man.
"don't you love me, daisy?"
the phone rings.
it's you.
we see a romantic comedy, which fills us both
with something like cotton candy.
but it's temporary so we get chinese food
because you say you like sweet
and sour pork.
i never liked the aftertaste.