things you wish you had not taught her

She got out of her car
large white cadillac
purchased for a purpose
purchased for a showdown
purchased because she thought she had something
meaningful to say about
her money
her status
her job
her clothes
her three divorces and she gutted them for all they were worth
and the cadillac now worn, ragged, and tired,
sits and waits
and she demands her presence
be known to say
look at me
feel me
see me
walk in this coffee shop
all eyes (including mine) turn to see her
with her large, gold, sequined purse
filled with things she doesn't need
filled with things that define her
filled with credit cards and lipstick
and face paint and eyeliner and mace
and diaphragms and business cards
of men she's left behind

Her dark ponytail pulled back tight
her dark sunglasses perched on her head like a spider
her dark eyes not taking in the light
she finds the booth of the woman waiting
sits down with straight back,
chest forward
her hair
her sunglasses
her chest
her presence
all in place
and she begins to move her mouth

as if someone had reached underneath her shirt
hand finding its way up her back,
until it reached a small brass key to
wind
wind
wind
wind
wind until tight
and then lets it go and it spins
and she becomes winded
mouth moving
key turning
the wind whirling her words through the air,
she doesn't take a breath
she doesn't need oxygen
she doesn't need encouragement
she doesn't need your help
she doesn't need anything
but to hear the sound of her own voice

and the woman across from her
sits and waits
worn, ragged and tired
her white ponytail pulled back tight
her glasses dangle from a chain
around her neck like a noose,
her eyes no longer taking in the light
her lips red, and small, and still,
a woman who sits and listens,
a woman I assume to be her mother
a woman who had once supported her daughter
dared her to speak her mind
to share her thoughts
to demand equal pay for equal work
to voice her opinions
loud and long
proud and strong
to empower her with the power of being a woman
in a man-riddled world.

A woman who now
sits in isolation
wishing for insulation
pining for condemnation
praying for hell’s damnation
to save her from this
winding
winded
waste of words
a woman with regrets
a woman who now looks at her daughter
and with everything she has
and everything she has not
she says without thought
"for the love of god, woman,
would you please shut up."