CuppaGemma

Telephone poles droop
with black spaghetti lines
on old wood that leans from waiting
too long for no one’s attention,

While the cars have bumper stickers,
door dents and left hands constantly
leaving their coarse language
flung out like flags and dusty rugs

As the girls walk with their hips
double tight jeans, teased long tresses
black black lashes with red lips because
they want to be something else than

The older ladies standing in lines
with thick wavy arms and faded orange
hair glaring at the eggs and pushing carts
angry at old stoves and tired husbands

While men remember when they ran the show
only stopping not staying for coffee,
when did their careful hair fill itself grey
ashamed of hands that have lost their magic