THE FUTURIST

“When I grow up,” I used to say,
“I am going to travel to Russia,
And have my big brown birthmark removed,
And change my first name to something better than Wendy,
And be a social worker,
And stay away from foods I hate,
Olives, oysters, tomatoes.”
I never mentioned getting married,
Not knowing if there was a man out there for me.

But the future is never as clear as it seems
Before I had even come out of my teens
I had already promised the man of my dreams
That we would get married at Christmas.

Then my birthmark emitted a prickle of fear,
So a doctor deleted that much-hated sphere
And it was so traumatic that I cried a tear
And decided not to meddle with my first name.

I never took Russia off my travelling list
But there were some places I wanted to see first
Like the UK, Hawaii, Nova Scotia and Calgary,
Portland, Chicago, Detroit and Nashville,
Phoenix, Los Vegas, Los Angeles, Los Cabos,
San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle, Orlando
New York, New Orleans, New Brunswick, and Red Deer,
Quebec and Ontario, Prince Edward Island,
British Columbia, even Saskatchewan,
I went to St. Petersburg, but it was in Florida
So Russia is still on the list.
After Australia, New Zealand and the rest of Europe.

I ate things Italian and learned to love olives\
I asked to be given smoked oysters for Christmas
I paid for Greek salads with lots of tomatoes.
But I did become a social worker.

So I did get one prediction right.
But I am probably not on the short list
To be hired as a futurist.