Poem: In Progress
March 11, 2024
The older woman at the bar
thrusts out her breasts
exposing her defiance
of gravity
only to reveal
the clever architecture of her foundation
garments
etched in lines and grooves across her back.
Such women
with such pretensions
shouldn’t wear white sweaters
tucked tight into yellow stretch pants.
the shadows of the lines and grooves
accentuate the engineering
drawing our attention
away from the points she wants us to watch.
And once you notice the bra-lines
across her back
you ignore the synthetically pleasing roundness
of her surgically-enhanced bosom
across her front
and instead you focus
the lines and shadows that dog
her face
even through the most post-modern make-up
and you ask
probably silently
why this woman needs to hide her age
why this woman needs to pretend
she is still a sexual object.
Indeed,
why the sexual attribute has become so all-fired damn important
when sex lasts for but minutes
and friendship lasts forever.
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