Memoir Poem : Diamond Dogs with Cigarettes

Haight Street, San Francisco

For Cigarette Girls who’ve lived to tell the story


Parisienne hopeful

Moulin Rouge roving

Ingenue cluttered in black stilts

with just a hint of pleading

weeping and singing

I do

Flower Drum majorette

clever sentimental transient.

Walk the line in a curve

Walk the wet streets clopping

horse drawn in flesh netted stockings

Be a doll a marionette

a swirling glitter pony

tail sway ginger vamp

walk with a dip

without tripping

cross the intersection

light bright stage with car horns.

Smile nod and balance the thorns

nervously curtsey

wave like a last minute prom queen servant

a depressed cheerleader again

just to prove I can to those who ever doubted.


Why are you doing this?

I’m an artist

For humility

to lessen my ego

thick skinned mindfulness.

I’m a writer, I want to experience the unusual

I was curious and needed $

I’m a night person

I’ve done the boring office thing

I’m open minded but

this is my last fright night

of cigarette girl crawling.


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