She wants a summer hair cut,
so I cut off ninety-eight white curls
one for each year.
Then I clip and file her nails.
There now, all pretty.
She smiles with her few last teeth.
She's wearing a blue polyester dress
it's over forty years old.
The bust line sags empty--
G.G. gave up bras over five years ago,
(around the time she became a great-grandmother,
changed her name, and moved out of her house)
so there is no going back to find them.
If I ask, she'll tell me how she's still angry
about the time around 1925 when
she developed a bust in the first place.
She tied her chest tight with rags
in hopes to avoid braziers all together.
And she'll probably add on the story
how ten years later, she cut off her long hair
for the first time--"one thick braid" only
to discover her hair was curly.
She has refused to shop since I can remember
trying to wear out the polyester
before she dies.
She tells me goodbye,
reminds me it's a terrible world out there
hands me a bag to take home--
Two five dollar bills for the hair cut,
two yellow bananas
and one "Glamour" magazine.
It's a good thing G.G. is too blind
to see the woman's low neck line
on her blue dress--
more of a waist line, really.