Friday, 6 May 2011

Ode to the Drag Queen in the Beauty Shop

I walked into your shop
with its brightly colored purple exterior
looking for a massage.

You were applying warm wax to
an old woman's upper lip;
distracting her with gossip while you
smeared and ripped,
smeared and ripped.

She must have been at least seventy.
I worried about her delicate skin,
and how that must feel at her age.
But she could not have cared less, and
instead laughed wildly at your story.

You paused for a moment and walked my way
swaying your hips, your big bundão
mini-skirt, short black hair, and lined-lips.
the fake nipples poking
through your tight sweater.

You, who are so proud.
A real show of your talents,
an expert at your craft.

Next time, I want my hair cut by you.


  1. Chambi!

    Nice poem. These instances are the essence of poetry, things that are so intriguingly small, but are completely enrapturing. I liked it so much, i am sending you a couple of comments.

  2. camille! I miss you and i hope you're doing well... I pop on over here every now and then to see what you're up to and it seems like your life in Brazil is so much fun :)