all dolled up

there's too many
words
with no end,
no result, no real plan
but hunker down
and don't kill
each other.

it reminds me of growing
up
when my mother had
to leave the house
for groceries
or to meet frank
the coca cola man
who parked his big red
truck
around the corner.

i'll be back in a while,
she'd say,
all dolled
up as best as a woman can
doll
her self

on food stamps.

we'd look up from the tv,
from our
comic books,
or homework
or bologna sandwiches
and nod.

okay. we'd tell her.
then the door would close.
sometimes she'd be
back
soon, sometimes later,
and other times we'd have to
go out
and find
her the next morning.