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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

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© Johnmichael Simon



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