the hot water

don't use all the hot
water
we'd tell our sisters,
all three
as they beat us to the bathroom,
with towels
and soaps,
photoplay magazines.
they had to wash their
hair,
to soak,
to primp and brush,
to get ready
for the boys they'd hope
to win.
we'd see
the steam rise out from
under the white door,
into the cool hall where
our bare feet stood,
we'd shake our heads
and moan,
too late.