golf carts ramble by
the scratchy grass stands at attention
cut exactly to one half of an inch
from the coffee brown soil
this is now her palace

after ten months of marriage
her Prince took the horse
and the kid and left her
holding a golf ball
with mascara running
down her milk white skin
toasted by the Florida sun
to a crisp orange

but as she greets customers
her teeth still shine
with a slight tint of royalty
though she never sings
to the birds anymore

once a week she meets Ariel
and Jasmin as they walk down pavement
--a light gray speckled with rocks and dust--
their footsteps hush memories
of Disney days that only seemed better

and one tear does not slide down
her cheek
because this is no longer
a fairy tale