Who Is This Woman? by Pat West
She doesn’t knock or introduce herself,
just blows into my life and starts hanging
out, takes control of my face, plasters
a smile on it that won’t quit.
And this gal, let me tell you, she laughs—
out loud and often. She cracks herself
up. Talk about sassy, she has her way
with my emails, chats on the phone
in a chipper voice I don’t recognize—
sounds sort of flirty to me. She doesn’t
stay within boundaries, shows up
at my workplace, jokes with the Director,
even makes the curmudgeon at the front desk
grin—no one’s seen that happen, ever.
Stranger still, she considers herself cute.
Good, God, imagine such thoughts
at sixty-three. The other night
I heard her mention something
about a date. That’s when I caught her
dancing around the house in my robe
to some old Cat Stevens’ tune. She didn’t even
flinch when she flashed the hall mirror
a full frontal view and announced—
not bad for an old broad!
Pat West calls Portland, OR home, for now. Her work appears in Labyrinth: Poems and Prose, An Eye for an Eye Makes the Whole World Blind: Poets on 9/11, Listening to the Birth of Crystals, and various webzines.
