POETRY

Fish

painted toenails peek
from sandals in a scissor-kick slink
of goddess-sculpted living legs
gliding past our table.
perkily bobbed, chemically cleaned
hairs flounce on seductively slipped
shoulder straps. possibly pink aureolas
taut from sweat’s sudden chill
on a desperate clicking, seeking soul.
seeking, seeking mr. right in the night.
so tall, so snide with all the proper lines
and goods inside. open wide,
glide past our table while we sit
devoid of jobs, money, youth, time
unfettered by hair, flair, savoir faire
and lovely ladies who once cared.
we tilt our heads - eyes lidded
to devour the flesh
of another colorful specimen
gliding by, her dead eye fixed
elsewhere in this vast aquarium.

matt landers 7/04