Do the three blondes sipping Ombre Pink Drinks
believe they’re on break from coding at Fitbit
or know they flew the coop, birds with lonely wings.
I hanker to solve the mystery of their designer bags,
pull out a magnifying glass from my backpack
slip by to identify brown leather, logo in script.
Google says, Gucci: 1 thou new, 600 used.
Blonde envy jumps out of a bottle,
at thirteen I bleached my black frizz.
Blondes have more fun.
In ’61, I idolized Bob and Justine
sliding the Stroll on American Bandstand.
Life could be a dream Boom ba doh da
At the country club, I perched at the edge
of the cool blue pool, tapped on my knees.
I peeked through binoculars,
scouted five blonde moms, ten gin and tonics,
piles of discards, stacks of failed tricks.
Pastel Bermuda bags clustered on their chairs,
one initialed BABS. My secrets hid
inside a paper sack.
At Starbucks the blondes laugh, He complains
about cooking for the kids. Guccis hugged.
to their chests, they speed off in their Mercedes.
Years ago, I juggled bags of cookies,
ran door to door, watched moms float
toward me thrilled to see a Girl Scout.
I’ll take five boxes of thin mints, love them love…
They tripped back with two twenties, said,
keep the change Sweetheart.
Mare Leonard‘s poetry has appeared in The Naugatuck Review, Hubbub, Cloudbank, The Chronogram, Earth’s Daughter, Rat’s Ass Review, Perfume River,The Courtship of Wind, New Verse News, Bindweed, Forage, and Eunoia. A new chapbook will be published soon at Finishing Line Press.
Photo: Michelle Pfeiffer, in a scene from Scarface (1983), directed by Brian De Palma