to drop
my son off at his high school
after he'd
miss the bus,
i'd ask him
what the deal was
with all these
street walkers,
ladies of the night,
full grown women
strolling around in micro
mini
skirts
wearing lots of makeup,
with bright
red lips
and high heels.
blondes, brunettes, redheads.
some in fishnet
stockings.
dad, he'd say. those are students,
girl students.
they're my age.
really? geez, Marie.
i thought i'd made a wrong
turn and we
were circling Times Square
in the 70's.
no wonder
you're failing geometry this year,
i get it. how is it possible
to concentrate?
Jiminy Crickets.
well, have
a good day, son.
then he'd hop out
of the car
in his cut off shorts and t-shirt
with jelly stains
on the front,
and wearing flip flops.
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