____ and I were
pushed up close
together in this tiny
closet where we work.
And ___________ was close to us.
We were doing some imagining.
____ would get with a
fast guy, with a temper,
who might push her
around a little, but this
would only sharpen her,
and this would add to her
allure. In the Winter he
might suggest she cover
those golden fingers with
gloves, silk gloves lined with
fur. ____, who is becoming
more like a pearl with every year.
And __________, the wild one,
might have to marry someone. A
lawyer, or Financier. Someone
to keep up with her, an even-tempered
M-A-N-type with a fast card, who would
be a kind of anchor while she
posed in loungers and schemed
at counters. Everyone
in the room began to laugh a little
in a way that was cute to me.
Like a movie of women who
tease in the ease of
the familiar. Someone said
something like ew we are being
real vultures aren't we. I was tucking
hair behind my ear and pulling a
piece of jerky off with my teeth
and someone said "well what about Vicky?" and someone else said
"you? I think you
should get on a train and never get
off, you're just on a
different wavelength."
I think I am not a woman.
I think I am a wolf.