girls like moths he said musical thrilling voices
long slender limbs she said silk column dresses
tight tilted faces I read framed by sleek bobs
eight Louis heels softly bobbing the thick throb of lifting thighs
T-straps dipping into plush grass They’re getting muddy
calves long and shapely burn with lac tic ac id
misty pale in the sunset-drip
one girl spells Ls of her arms, Who designed this hill?
crosses their raised nap
guarding her rib-ridged chest. It’s awful cold
At the house
the doorbell lost in cheerful chatter Maybe press it again—
show themselves in, confident women —uncertain girls
The cheap sneer of polysatin
Running, splashing, hiding across dresses
The hostess appears, pulled patch in her sleeve
wide in the electric glare
Gaping threads, perfectly even teeth look slippery—
like bathwater
on composite countertops
necks swiveling like swans uneasy.
Scanning, leaping
from face to frizz-topped face Is that—?
A crown—no, a helmet
Of gaud-yellow hair reassembled
Stiff as laughter
Crescent moon in reverse
Dirt under a trimmed pointer nail
Against a sky of smuggled smiles
The elegant flow of another gallant pour
Champagne groping awkwardly
For the glass caught off-guard
un
even
eyeliner
conversation
the wet sound of it