Mother's Little Man

A Poem by Carlton Carr

She used to sit on the bed
with one foot up
painting her toenails
while little puffs of cottonwool
flowered between her toes
like miniature cauliflowers

when she curled her hair
using those pink plastic rollers
that were so common in those days
the astringent smell of perm fluid
permeated not only her hair
but the air around her as well

I remember the smell
of the used laddered stockings
that she left tangled among her shoes
because I' d try them on
and wear her pink stilettos
and strut my stuff

when she was out on the town
with another hot prospect
and I was left to rifle through the tampons
and filed smooth nail files
and dried up cutex bottles
that cluttered her drawers

looking for loose change