forming a cue with their long line of stares.
“Goodness! Are all of them hers?”
Like birds on a wire, they twitter in pairs.
“How do you do it?” they gush and say,
not really wanting to hear the way,
nor caring that in the night
you spread fantasy wings and take flight
To exotic beaches and sun-kissed sands,
still recovering your dish-soaped hands.
Leaving behind the painted shell
dressed up in heels and glossy hair gel.
Your friends go out to dine and chat
but you decline, no money for that.
You’re in it for life, give or take a year.
Just smile and nod, that’s all they want to hear.