Jello Wrestling Today
The parking lot sign
is a boardwalk barker shouting out:
“Jello Wrestling Today!”
We sit and wait, us broads
a long line of pocketbooks and peroxide on
tattered bar stools,
to be teamed up on stage
in one of those pink, plastic kiddie pools, full
of cold, slimy, jello,
brimming with the sweat of 50 dancers
and their body glitter.
The highest bidder ascends the stage,
to hold my towel poolside, like
a knight pocketing his lover’s handkerchief before the joust.
That’s the way it was back in the day,
at the poor man’s ballet.