Power Poetry, unPedantic 

Two women, cup washers at Starbucks

discuss the patriarchy and the progress of

equal rights; they talk about Washington D.C. 

and Hollywood.  

“Cup washers? Is that what he said?”

“Who’s writing this poem? Leave him alone!”

“But there’s no cup washing at Starbucks.”

“What did I tell you?”

Blanche has blue hair

this week

Mabel has red hair 

forever; out of a bottle,

the color called: Frivolous Fawn. 

But this conversation is not

frivolous. The OPEN/CLOSED sign 

on the front door is twisted

CLOSED facing out, but will twist 

around in 15 minutes. So, quickly

they get to the point.

“I’ll say this for Hollywood,” Blanche revs up, 

“more social change is coming from there than 

that lame damn Washington!”

“I agree,” Mabel purrs her engine alongside Blanche, 

“I couldn’t believe they had that Ellen

woman in charge of the Oscars last night. A woman,

and a gay one, too!”

“Yeah!” Blanche’s voice takes off from a high branch, 

“and how many more centuries before that might happen 

in Washington?” 

“Those Washington fuckers!” yells Mabel, 

her voice bouncing across the room and off the OPEN 

side of the sign; the manager of Starbucks 

looks at Mabel, then at his watch.

“Hey, that’s a little rough, easy Mabel,” calms Blanche. 

“Well look: why are we even talking about all this 

with only 13 minutes until we open?” asks Mabel.

“Because this poet, out there in his car with his laptop 

waiting for us to open, wants a poem about it, 

but anecdotal style, not direct and obvious, 

and certainly not unpoetically rough like you just were.”

“So we’re his anecdote, are we?” 

“Yes, and we have to give this back to him now, 

for his casual, lifelike, non-pedantic delicacy.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, and there - another man - ok! 

Are they in charge of everything?”

“Shhh, Mabel ... let him work.” 

The two women leave off with their cup washing, they 

become reflective and interior, each inside their own thoughts, 

and a coffee-colored light casts a pallor over the coffee parlor, 
and ... 

“Ok Mabel, never mind, let’s take it back ... now, 

what were you saying about those Washington fuckers?”