Shoots from the hip,
my upstart, upright protegé,
shimmies like that rich chick Kate,
in chin-length bob and skirt to there . . .
no, higher.

She’s pleased to make
your acquaintance,
bacon, eggs, dry martinis,
your day, you come. Just ask . . .
nicely.

Charleston flapper, sequined queen,
quite a quazy wady . . .
like Katie.

Okay. Oh, hey!
Whatever happened
to K?

Kept going at it
till they swept her away,
off her feet, her game.
Keep hoping she comes back . . .
kinda liked her.

Likewise Bobbie, I’m sure.
I’ll leave you two,
call if you need . . .

© Carlos Chagall, 2013