Pink plaid polyester pants and Phyllis Diller shoes
My mama was the talk of the block
Tapping down the street, kicking out those hip bell bottoms
with the tips of her shiny, pointy toed pumps
That V05 beehive swaying solidly above her as she sashayed down the walk
handing popsicles out to the neighborhood kids
and dirty looks to their snooty mamas
Always digging in new concrete, vowing this time to give us roots
Every night before crawling into bed she sat at her dressing table
and put on a full face of make up
I watch until she finally takes another long drink of the sharp stench of whiskey
before applying her cherry red lipstick
and four strategic dabs of perfume
tilting her head this way and that narrowing her eyes
to peer, I thought, through the curling smoke of her ever present cigarette
“You never know,” she would say from the murky mirror
winking at me above that too bright night time smile that I loved
It was the 70s and we lived like gypsies behind a 1950s façade….
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