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In honor of National Poetry Month, I wrote a poem about a woman who still continues to capture our imaginations even after her death.

If I could spend a day with Marilyn Monroe
I would dye my ebony locks a pale yellow
We’d hop on a train to the great metropolis
Seeking things that you might think was reckless

Spend hours playing dress up at Bloomingdales
Eliciting glares from women and unsuspecting males
Then onto FAO Schwartz to play with all the toys
Till we were quickly shooed for too much noise

We’d then saunter into Barnes and Nobles
Search the classics and the fables
Read the poignant parts of Miller’s Crucible
The tragedy makes us calm, quiet, more humble

And then I look into Marilyn’s eyes
I stare into them and ask a thousand whys
What kind of sadness and pain did she endure?
Lastly I ask what would have been her cure?

And as her lips parted to speak a word
I became cold and my vision blurred
And for an instant I couldn’t see, but understood
What couldn’t be seen, nor could be heard

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