My pale sky dress is spotted with

clouds—polka dots, not checkers,
but with the high-necked white
blouse, all I’m missing is a woven
wooden basket and red heels,
cropped curls too stubby to braid
I text my best friend a picture,
captioned “only hot girls cosplay
as Dorothy Gale by accident”.
She replies, “whimsical”. Meanwhile,
my mom, in response to my defense
that I didn’t want to be cold, quips,
“or cool?”
“Am I winning or losing if my mom
thinks I’m uncool?” is caption #2.
Ping! “I’d say winning,” reads the
little blue bubble, and the face
in the mirror smiles and decides
not to change. After all, Toto,
I think as I switch off the light,
we’re not in metaphorical Kansas