Dangerous Women

Dangerous Women

We knew them when we saw them,

the ones our mothers

warned us about,

sauntering down our

bare suburban afternoons,

their Marilyn skirts drifting upwards,

lifted by the

light-fingered breeze.

Oh for breasts that touched the sky

at those impossible angles!

If you’d pull two pins, their hair

would tumble down in waves enough

to drown a man’s resolve

and leave him

abandoned

to all the saltier commandments.

(In our mirrors we postured, practicing,

while the grandmothers clucked their tongues.)

When they passed, we sucked in the

hot scents of Opium

and Taboo—and watched

the boys we wanted to know

watching.

Originally published in Penguin Review, Spring 2006