TWO GIRLS IN WEST PHILLY

Two Girls in West Philly Spray Their Hair into Beehives

Poem by Kelly McQuain

They are the summer’s buzz and the chill of cold forties pressed to the sweaty crooks of their knees, pretty as a pair of hip-hop princesses dressed up in thrift shop finery. Tonight they are golden, all honey and shiver, and sweet clover perfume as the moon peeks out. Honeysuckle and lavender, clever and bawdy, they’re here to kick the door in to the after party. Their lips are glossed, aglow like lightning bugs, their hair is teased as high as the rafters. They’re ready for business if that business is pleasure. Tonight they’re the girls every man here is after. They’ve unlocked the laughter from their private honeycombs, sugared old hurts till they taste like Alizé. They sparkle, they shimmer; friends find them unfamiliar; they dance with each other, push drunk men out of the way. Tonight someone’s tagging the overpass again; someone’s got hotdogs sizzling on a grill. Someone’s spilling cheap gossip that stings like 80 proof. None of it matters to these two kissing girls.