"Back in my day," says Lady Cane (but we all know that
she's the Old-Lady-With-The-Cane) "I was a go-go dancer in Vegas.
I had beautiful legs like yours, darling. So smooth,
the men would stick money in me garters!"
Lady Cane, onstage, still puts on foundation,
even though her age spots still seep through
within the next hour or so, and the fake eyelashes (complete
with the gold glitter "the young'uns" wear) sag even minutes later
as she applies them in the mirror.
She is oblivious to the chuckles of the crowd.
Even though no one believes her stories about her dancing, she is built like one,
you know, like a dancer. She still has the lean shape (with the exception of
supple young skin) and the skill to put hair up in the dancer-buns.
Her own hair is white, but she still tries to keep it as red and fiery
as an inferno
on her head. Needless to say it doesn't work as well
as it should.
Onstage, instead of a spotlight, a movie fragment:
We played in the parking lots that belonged to
apartment complexes years and years ago,
but I refuse to admit to anyone except to you that I am old.
The pale yellow paint was peeling off the siding,
but the bricks were still pretty red.
Daddy'd come home drunk every night and I still wonder
and aloud (onstage) she'd mumble to herself, "Why'd he choose me?"