Another of my poetry experiments. The bolded and italicized words were provided by a friend, and my goal was to then turn the list into a poem.
She dabs at spicy chicken wing
Sauce and saliva dripping
From the corner of her mouth.
Removing daisies from the table,
She surveys the Tick sitting
Underneath a flickering G.E. lightbulb
Illuminating the somber stage
Plucking guitar. Bellowing songs
Of hopeless people.
"No graduation gown; just a dead-end job.
Two hundred bucks a week and dish-pan hands."
She sketches the spider tattoo on the Tick's left shoulder
Onto a wrinkled napkin.
Would he notice her
Leather miniskirt and lacy blouse?
Or the nail-polished fingers and toes
Matching the violet hue
Of his blood-shot eyes.
She could share a life with him.
A small home. A baby. A beagle.
"Who had the wheatgerm and watercress salad?"
A waitress in a fuchsia T-shirt taps a counter beat to the room's rhythm.
She moves the table tent listing future performances
At the Apple Core.
Purple Turtle — a retro band
And Tommy has a Tumor.
Tasting her salad, she concludes
Surely there's more to life than this fruitless quest to find a husband.