Barbara Eknoian


A DIFFERENT KIND OF ELEGY
 
Mom, on my way to lunch today,
I grabbed a Glamour magazine,
flipped the page open to a model
posed with the back of her skirt
caught up and tucked
under her white underwear.
For the article, she pretended
she was unaware, to see if people
would be kind enough to let her know.
Catcalls emerged from passing cars
on the busy Manhattan street,
there were snide remarks from
younger girls, but a percentage
of older women and a smaller group
of men did inform her.

I laughed out loud when I saw the pictures
because they reminded me of the time
you crossed the avenue in West New York
with your dress tucked up into your undies.
I was horrified when you told me,
but you laughed it off saying,
"Hell, I don't know them. They don't know me.
At least, I was wearing underwear."
I recall another time late at night
when you waited at a bus stop
after working at the beauty salon,
carrying bags of capes to wash at home.
A sailor asked you to show him
how to use the pay phone.
You got into the booth to help him
and he crammed behind you
suddenly closing the door,
but you managed to escape.

When you told us the story
we were all doubled up with laughter.
You admitted you were more embarrassed
than scared because he was so much younger.
It never occurred to you he had a motive.
I can still see you shrug your shoulders
and hear you say,
"I'm just a victim of jerkumstances."