Lady Bowlers in the Lounge

They arrive in min-buses, twin
seater vans, RV's and SUV's of all
colors, sizes and descriptions, wearing
their black polyester blend short sleeve
blouses, their names sewn on their
right breast pockets: Marge, Shirley,
Sandi, Delores, Roxanne...
Too tight, above the knees dark skirts,
Butterfly's tattooed on their ankles or on
the back of their sun burnt necks, forty
pounds overweight, ordering Black Velvet
Presbyterians, sipping as if they were sleek
women, lounging in evening gowns, fondling
pearls before swine enter their lives,
perfect 10 billboard fantasies defiling all
the back road dream highways of their lives;
or else, they are anorexic thin, chain smoking
menthol lights, drinking long neck Buds without
No Damn Glass, hubby's name tattooed in black
on their bowling arm above the jailhouse cross,
their dead eyes staring through the smoke
dense lounge at the bar TV, trying to hear
the latest NASCAR results on Sports Center,
the west coast edition, an hour to go
before last call and miles to go before she weeps.

Alan Catlin has published dozens of chapbooks of full length books of prose and poetry. The most recent being "Near Death in the Afternoon on Becker Street" from March Street Press. His most prized honor is the two most neglected books of the year designations by Marvin Malone legendary editor of the Wormwood Review. A slightly different version of this poem was published in Diner.

TPQ3