Sixty years ago, he'da been workin' it! "You hens...better go cluck elsewhere!"
They'd've worked it too, these 'hens'. Watched him as he stood up, mock annoyance at their blatherings; stared, reprimanded...Given him an eye or two and even giggled, maybe.
"Ah, you broads are dizzy! What's your names?," he might've wondered.
"What's it to ya'?," 'Shirley' might've asked...They might've exchanged cigarettes, or phone numbers. "LIndy 7-5309".
Shirley may've slyly winked in black and white, and rayon.
Today, he stands up slowly. Three old women part like Moses; like the Red Sea, or a bad haircut...Make room for the grey and tired creature, sick, unsexy now...
Old work days far behind him.
© 2003, J. Glovsky
