Parade beats

For someone waiting
for the next new thing,
she sure got old fast.
Her visions of rainbow connections
notwithstanding,
she couldn’t hold a toothpick
for more than two seconds
without turning cheerleader
and I always felt I was in jeopardy
of losing an eye
when the band began to play.
Her strips of frosted hair
reminded me
of Lily Munster
and the way she sucked
a Camel
made me feel sorry
for her boyfriend.

She had moments of truth, however,
when she looked out the window
or drank her coffee
or curled a fist when taking about love
in the back of the old Dodge Dart.

So we say hello
with a nod
and pass most days
as women
who have no need
of horoscopes or Lifetime movies,
catching glimpses
of something that matters
in the sound of parade beats
and revving engines.