The Beauty Shop
He observed the no smoking sign as he puffed his Newport
on the subway platform on his way downtown to the bank
still buzzin' from the cheap wine and malt liquor he drank,
as a homless man cleared up his sinuses,
reminding him to do laundry later,
after he stopped by the ghetto-assed not so supermarket
for a pound of turkey bacon, grits, and eggs,
that his wife would prepare and place in the microwave,
before leaving to open up her beautyshop,
where she'd gossip about the local whores
and the latest trivial news with her clients,
and giggle like little, silly, schoolgirls,
but get quiet when the object of their
discussion walks through the door looking guilty as charged,
because she see's the looks on their faces,
but inside she's laughin' really hard
at the fact that yesterday
she was drinking cheap wine and malt liquor, smoking Newports
and screwing one of their husbands,
getting money for her hair to be done...
n2s.
Copyright © G.Anthony Jenkins | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment