The Ladies- a poem
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Elaborate slurs of feline curves
and jealous spite aspersions,
abound in spades of brash tirades,
inside the women’s washroom.
Whispers slight and words so trite
of innocents in stiletto heals,
lipstick red and acid peals.
Snide remarks and shallow barks
denouncing men and favours,
of sexual marks in backs of cars
with unrestraint in labour.
Silence bares and lipstick cares,
a brush and quiet refreshment.
A line of coke, a gasp, a smoke,
and back onto the dance floor.
Replacements come, a parade of glum,
sad and lonely sirens,
there to snag a manly stag
and flaunt their womanly wiles.
Until the rays of dawn invite
a day of secretarial plight.
And waste away the daylight hours,
till neons bruise the night.
And once again in washrooms men,
unbeknownst and ignorant them,
the targets of these princess fems,
the prowlers of the night.
Do puff and preen with sex and glee
and vixen fight for honours.
In backs of cars, in lanes and bars
enacting, fill their coffers.