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Hattie
Hattie picks up men like a fly
picks up bacteria
they admire her billowing skirts
and she imagines, in her dainty
multifaceted way, as she crosses
and uncrosses her legs
that quite a few of them
are watching for a glimpse of white
When its her turn, she smiles
(a mixture of primness and primp),
reads her poem (it’s three pages long)
full of characters (mostly male)
whom she has met on her rambles
while dressed in her straw hat and scarf,
her kerchief an antenna
of colorful send and receive signals
Satisfied, Hattie smiles that ambivalent smile,
looks around for potential material
for forthcoming essays, sits down,
adjusts her skirts, her scarf, her hat
her hands shake from her Parkinson’s
as the Panama, slipping slightly, discloses
that she’s almost completely bald
© Johnmichael Simon
2919
.
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