Girls! Girls! Girls!

Yolanda Gallardo

Salivating on the glass;
clammy faces of vagrants and children,
press against the pane,
imbedding dirt into open pores.

Peeping through a peephole;
watching dogs dancing;
shaking greasy spangles,
stuck together on bare breasts
by cigarette smoke and perspiration;
wrapping their legs around
turned off steampipes;

turning on
middle aged losers
hiding alopecia
with custom made rugs;
attache' cases in their laps,
covertly concealing
overt fantasies.

Blearily delaying the ineluctable
with just one more
nepenthean glass;
blurring out thoughts
of weightwatching wives
who flock about the station in second cars,
waiting to pry their successful husbands
off the last train to Scarsdale.

c.2000