Big Hair Big Trouble At The 7-11
Poem By Hubert Wilson
Morning bleary-eyed stop for coffee to go.
Offered the usual unusuual people show.
This one was to be beyond memorable and unique.
Hardly for the modest and the meek.
Every language and dialect seemed to be heard.
Really believed even a Klingon conversation occurred!
Anxiously waiting in line.
Noticing the visual proof of no such thing as 'intelligent design'?
Devious to the naive.
Surely every age group one could perceive.
Ostentatious matronly rich
Nodding to the poor cross-dresser making a sexual switch.
Rugged and self-absorbed cop
Exceptionally oblivious to the kids shoplifting to stop.
Uptight silence griped all?
Noting the entrance of a sultry big haired, middle-aged, micro-skirted pseduo working girl thin and tall!
Instantly she had that recognizing sensual smile and eyes locked on me and no other -
Ohhh brother -
Nudging up next to nervous me as I stammered, 'Hello Mother! '