Elizabeth Nardo
Two pieces of bread Nude before the world Heaps and spoonfuls of Dukes Two pieces of bread Wearing a wonderful dress A banana ripened to perfection Sliced lengthwise into floppy fruit Bundle them up in a regal gown Made of Dukes and bread Gross to some Comfort for me Passed down by my Mother Once my special treat Now my guilty cheat
The magnolias and oaks marked the land, Their shade a retreat. Honeysuckles grew along the fence. Cotton blows like snow along the road. The humid air is thick with the past. Everyone knows everyone's people. Every action reflects on your people. Everyone knows what families are good people, And those not worth dirt. It's a gilded cage of manners and beauty. You're a young lady; you better be proper at all times. But inside, you rebel against the oppressing ghosts. Jackie and Elizabeth have their glamour, But where's it for you? You have your role in this ancient play; You better play it.
Between the rooms, a beaded curtain Made of pull tabs. She wore a wide-brimmed hat Of beer cans and crochet. She smelled of coconut oil, Her skin bronzed. Wearing a Playboy bikini, Long, dark, straight hair down her back. She walked across the red and black Shag carpet, Just back from the beach In her burnt orange Corvette. This was long before the serious Southern lady after the divorce, When she was young and carefree. It's my earliest memory of her.