by Jeff Glovsky
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 prodded.
“What’s it to ya’?” ‘Shirley’ might’ve asked … They may’ve exchanged cigarettes, or phone numbers. “LIndy 7-5309”.
… Shirley may have slyly winked, in black and white, and rayon.
Today, he rises slowly. Younger women part like Moses; like the Red Sea, or a bad haircut … Make room for the gray and tired creature, sick, unsexy now …
Old work days far behind him.