Behind horn-rimmed glasses
with a Camel Light between lips
stained the same red
as her cropped duster of a bob
and knowing of it,
she arches her brows
as the non-marginal walk by. . .
muttering under heavy breath:
Because she still has to watch out for them
She doesn't know that she looks just like
Sally Jesse Raphael
and her friends are not going to be the ones
to tell her. They'll let her mother.
"Dear, those glasses look so. . . severe
Under her gravel tracked breath
she'll say: "fuck off, mom."
Then take a fatal drag fogging up
the windows covering
her dull mud brown eyes