When I see women in clean white jackets
(blazer, baseball or those that look like tennis rackets),
diaphanously buoyant yellows bowls of hair
and pink scalps shining luminously through,
I know that they’re RESPECTABLE,
but kind of old and poor.
Other aging firebrands in fashionable yoga straps
(or completely braless, excepting when they’re doing laps),
and sheep-sheared blondes with style gel itch,
who covet SLATTERNY, SLUTTY looks
and thoughts they cull from trendy books-
are “youthful,” and seem rich.
Charming and deliciously observant. But the the babe n the picture makes me nervous.
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