waitress poems

Sunday, August 21, 2005


In the era of great movies,
they called women like her
dizzy dames. Good for a laugh
their lipsticked smiles still
poke out of old albums. I see her
pereched on a Desoto after the war,
showing off movie star legs
in a polka-dotted dress,
wide brimmed hat, and
open toed shoes.
But dames like that, the movies warned
don't age well.
Now beached up in an age of
action flicks and MTV,
she goes to yard sales
searching for heart-shaped pillows
and knick-knacks
with painted faces.
This is the last movie,
her life strewn across some
stranger's lawn, the grass
humming a theme song.
And she comes as always,
dressed for the part--cheeks
rouged to a feverish blush,
her eyebrows heavy black crescents
that have held her face
from tears for decades.
And sailing over the litter
that giggle they loved back
in the era of great cinema.
High pitched and dizzy,
it ripples through the air
like a blast of jazz trumpet
played on the wrong speed.

first appeared in Laurel Review


  • i really like your poetry, if you don't mind would you do an interview, which i could send you by email for http://livinginpoetry.blogspot.com

    my email id is gulnazg AT hotmail.com

    By Blogger gulnaz, at 10:03 AM  

  • Yes, Gulnaz! I would love to do an interview with you. I'm now off to check out the poetry site and to email you!

    By Blogger Patry Francis, at 5:38 PM  

  • thank you! :)

    By Blogger gulnaz, at 1:13 AM  

  • I love this poem! I keep coming back to read it!

    By Blogger Russell Ragsdale, at 6:57 PM  

  • I greatly enjoyed this and can clearly picture the woman you describe. I do question, pardon me, the spelling of theme. Thanks so much for sharing your work with us.

    By Blogger Vickie, at 7:39 PM  

  • Thanks, Russell. Returning for a reread is the best compliment I can get.

    And Vickie, thanks for pointing out my typo. I make so many of them I frequently become blind to them.

    By Blogger Patry Francis, at 9:16 PM  

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