The Dating Pool

this dive into
the dating pool once more,
won't last long.

it's murky and cold.
the women flail their
heavy arms
to stay afloat, everyone giving
it one more shot
to be young, act young,
and not limp.

everyone is blonde and on keto.
a yoga mat in the car. a botox
appointment set
for tomorrow.

the baggage is endless,
luggage
strapped
to so many backs,

stacked by the altar of hope.

lawyers, doctors, waitresses
at ihop.
teachers and those living off
the fumes
of someone long gone.

I open their medicine
cabinets to see the other side.
the dark
side of who they are.

the amber prescription bottles,
half empty,
too many to count.

I peek into the ice
box to see their ex husbands,
shivering
in rows. their monied teeth
clacking with fear.

I pick up the phone when it
rings,
and it's a room of children
ungrown,
in need of mommy.

under the bed, I see more secrets.
the dust balls of lies,
of inconsistency,
deceit. a black cat
with green eyes.

I see the dust on the books
they read,
or don't read, that line
the shelves.

but we meet and

I feed them, I buy them drinks,
I make small talk into wee hours
of Tuesday nights. ten p.m. .

the check comes,
they all get up to
go to the bathroom.
their purses strung tight with
cob webs.
feminists with no shame
in them.