I am waiting here
for my fairy godmother to arrive.
I know she hears me
and is just being stubborn
(or busy –
there must be a very long waiting list).

I need, fairy godmother, someone
to figure the income tax
build a fence
plant trees
scrape the garage
and advise me about auto mechanics.

It’s true, fairy godmother,
that you don’t have to
clean the cinders off me anymore,
and it’s true that I hustled up
my own invitation to the ball,
but I’m sick and tired
of having to do everything.
If you won’t arrive soon,
to make me beautiful
and lead me off to dance,
at least, fairy godmother,
the very least you could do
is send over the prince to cut the grass.