14th street

in the mid
sixties
you remember
seeing the
subdued
women, with
cigarettes
and lipstick.
dolls eyes,
circling
the mayflower
hotel.
heels and nylons.
hair teased
high
and stiff
in the street
lamps pink
glow.
bending
towards the car
windows
as husbands
out for milk
and bread
shopped for what
they weren't
getting at home.
and you,
caught between
man and boy,
cruising
in a parent's car
with your friends,
staring
out the rolled
up windows,
sealed still
in innocence,
but breathing
fog onto
the glass.