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she went to wedding after wedding, ate too much cake,

drank too much wine, never caught the bouquet.

[tamura]

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I had a dream. I was wearing this billowing veil, this white dress. Guys in tuxedos tripped past me, straightening their cufflinks or whatever it is guys in tuxedos do. The wind was blowing. I was standing in a doorway. I realized I was getting married.
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I was getting married. I stood there, motionless in my dress, and a faceless stranger floated to mind, a man in a suit, and I thought, How could I.
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Suddenly a boy on a motorcycle drove up. I vaguely remembered him from some other season of my life, also that he owed me money. He dragged the bike to the curb, hopped off, and called to me as he was jogging up the church steps. Hey, he said, I'm getting rid of my bike. Want it?
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Automatically, I extended my hand. He tossed me the keys. I swept my skirt aside, got on the bike.
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Felt it scream under my palms, between my legs, under the soles of my feet. Couple of revs. Everyone at the church laughed. I released the clutch. They kept laughing, because they thought I was playing around, and I smiled back at them as the bike picked up speed, because I knew I wasn't coming back.
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And I thought, in my dream, in a sudden rush of longing- I don't want to be the girl who is married. I want to be the girl who rides motorcycles and wears mascara.
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This seemed to me so achingly profound that I actually woke up.