Old Lady Peach and
Bleached white jeans
Drags lazily on her Marlboro Red, in the
Shimmering heat of West coastal sun.
The tarmac glitters and swells, lighting
Captain Parker’s Pub up
In Brooklyn Drag.
The little valleys pull in
Tight with French tips, while
Blue rinse reminisces a
Thousand occasions where she has
Solitarily loafed outside a
Thousand dinners, drinks, and
As a debutante, a
Thousand tiring dates,
To darken her blush pink dialect a
Dirty Brown.
Eyes sparkle sapphires that
Finally found a suitable buyer
After years of careless
Tanglers and Tossers.
Luminous, those watery orbs,
Pinpricked with stars and
Rimmed with midnight,
Crease in complement to her
Archaic cheekbones and grace
Fully unaware that she
Still stops traffic.
