Bleached Blonde Beehive
by Mary Shanley
a short order cook makes
small talk with the waitress
while waiting for exactly
the right moment to flip
two eggs over easy and
serve ‘em up with bacon
to his favorite lady
customer who sings along
with the jukebox as she
taps out rhythms on the
table at the back booth
where she sits every
morning in her gold
sequin dress looking
like she could have
been one of the motown
singers I used to watch
on t.v. every afternoon
and dream of the day
that dick clark would
be introducing me
as the latest sensation
to hit the pop charts
and all across America
kids would run home
from school to watch
me going through the
motions of an elaborately
choreographed routine
as I lip synch a stack
of finger poppin’ tunes
kinda like the ones
that lady in the back
booth keeps playing
every morning.
I listen to her singing
while ringing up checks
in my hot pink lipstick
and bleached blonde
beehive I’m the hottest
cashier this burg ever saw
and by the time Christmas
rolls around I’ll probably
have enough money to make
the final payment on that ‘66
mustang I bought from my
brother joey for half of what
it’s worth.
The Big Windows Literary Journal, 2017
Hobo Code Poems, 2008