The Fourth Dynasty lingers

I am starting to fear that Hathor is a distant relative of mine

but this is the nineties and

The Bayonne Beauties ruled by the pool.

Taking long drags off their Virginia Slims

dripping knowledge from their tongues

soaking-up as much of that dying sun the sky would allow.

They always seemed to have glamor surrounding them

even in ninety degree humidity

those ladies always left me drowning in modesty.

One of the goddesses looked up at me from under her sun hat

the Cupid’s bow of her lip was inverted when she said:

“Doomed you are sweetheart, it’s true….”

Then took her perfectly painted, acrylic-infused fingernails

brushed the hair from my face and told me to own it.

In-return,

I ran from it,

unworthy of the menat,

until the eve of my twenty-forth birthday.

Author: msmcmlxxxix

Wordsmith in Progress. View all posts by msmcmlxxxix