SWANK

The yellow miniskirt hits high above
her knees, the skin of her shoulders smooth
over a strapless top sporting more than a peek
of fulsome breasts perfectly befitting
a healthy young woman just short of 30
balancing two elegant shopping bags
from an after-Christmas sale
in the shaded parking lot of a mall
in a newly gentrified part of town
redrawn along quaint narrow streets,

happy to be out and about and smiling
at the handsome young man
waiting in a Porsche convertible
who only a few hours ago successfully
reaffirmed her womanhood
and now smiles back at her striding
long-legged and proud in five inch heels
across brightly painted lines

In her time zone in Southern California
it is exactly 2 p.m. on December 26, 2004,
the very moment his car radio announces
a monster tsunami has just
remodeled the entire coastline of Sumatra

What more can be said except that she is pretty
and laughs pretty and swoons pretty,
and “Oh Tony, turn that goddamn thing off,
will you? I mean who really gives a shit
about a whatever it’s called way the hell
out there in some stupid foreign place,
I mean…” and doesn’t say but might have said,
“…on such a spankin’ fine, kick-ass day
in the United States of America”

By | 2017-03-27T10:03:05+00:00 March 27th, 2017|Poem of the Week|Comments Off on SWANK