Four-Eyed Girls

I'm sitting at the bar

with Mary Katherine Gallagher

watching prospects grind hope

into anything blond.

I've peeled off wool tights so

my pleated skirt flashes white

cotton panties when I cross

and uncross. No one notices.

For fun, we switch eyeglasses.

In hers, I drown. Fish wriggle

and shimmer, groove beyond

my reach. She says

Through these glasses

everyone looks thinner. She says,

Why aren't there more girls

like us in movies? I tell her

there are plenty, floating

in rivers, folded in dumpsters,

naked, nameless. She says,

It's time for another shooter.

Something to clean the sink

something the bartender

will set on fire, something

that hurts going down.

Source: What Hurts Going Down (McClelland & Stewart, Ltd., 2020)