two in poetry

there were two points to be made
about the woman in the strip mall parking lot
in the mini-van with the jealous looking man
stopping in and out of the shop
for cigarettes of some kind

one was that
you never could have told her age
when she had her sunglasses on
she could’ve been twenty-five
she could’ve been thirty
her skin shined with radiance
her ass was big in that good firm way
she moved with the nonchalance
that could only come with youth
yet when she came back out
sunglasses off
you could tell she was in her forties
aged down by the mini-vans
and jealous men and cigarettes
she moved not with nonchalance
rather with the determinance of exhaustion
you could see by the little bags
under her eyes
by the little crow’s feet at the corners
that life had taken its time
to beat just a little bit out of her
despite the sunglasses that could hide
all these little signs at once

the other point was
she was more beautiful with the glasses off
she was more beautiful with
all the telltale signs
of having lived a life extant
there for the world to see
they were a burnishing of bronze
on a statue
the green of lady liberty
instead of gaudy blinking copper flash
the lie of the big sunglasses
made her look younger
but the truth of her time and trial
made her a slightly worn masterpiece

she didn’t know it
the jealous man in the minivan did not
but I was there to see it
scratching lotto tickets
in my car at sunset
I get to see things