You couldn’t expect anyone to do a lasting job at fifteen
With the resources of the superscience lab.
I was made out of ice, baby,
With FTL eyes.
Nobody could catch me and the universe
Lay under my wingéd sandals.
That lasted until I wanted someone to love me.
I went for the fifties look then,
Pouty cherry lips, rocketship breasts
Huge batwings — I didn’t want to give up flying.
It was that or the brain-in-a-jar thing
I don’t know what I was thinking.
It took ages to learn the word “subtle”
The understated stealth style
The magic librarian/mad scientist hero.
Which segued simply into geek mom.
It worked so well nobody noticed me.
I seldom needed to turn invisible.
After that, the changing got harder.
I was older, my body resisted,
I tripped over fragments of early creations
And I got low on ingredients.
Fortunately I’d learned some tricks
All that brain enhancement is good for something.
I build on the base of what has gone before
While haring off in new directions.
Still longing to fly, to be loved,
I get that old FTL gleam in my eye
And take myself and the universe to pieces
To make something interesting out of the bits.
(I reinvent myself from time to time.)
25th July 2012
