The Queen Mother (from March 8, 2013)

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Last night I dreamed I was Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother. The details are vague. I just remember feeling so powerful and dignified in my wrinkles and jewels. Bitch, when I spoke, motherfuckers LISTENED. Charles, my grandson, was there. He was there with his lovely second wife. Camilla. There was no closet space. “Really, children. Your taste in sweaters is quite atrocious,” I might have remarked. I walked around what was supposed to be a palace, I assume, but it looked more like a crack house. Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Bowes-Lyon was a Leo. Fitting. Leo is the sign of royalty. Adolf Hitler described her as “the most dangerous woman in Europe.” My name is Misti Velvet Rainwater-Lites and I am an Aquarian. Fitting. Quite. I’m crazy, as you all know. I describe myself as a mermaid with dangerous hair and a turquoise tail that is forever slapping the names from the sand, wondering when I’ll grow my legs and walk up the mountain that I was born to climb.

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