Never Muss An Opportunity

“I’m just a little
girl from Little Rock,”
sang out Carol while
sashaying across
stage. I basked in her
red sequins, talent,
and those saucer eyes.
Five thousand times she’d
looked swell, Dolly!
Wrinkled Kewpie with
a frowzy, ash blond
wig, when she beamed
every heart undressed.
I saw only her hair,
how some parts stood up.
I met her after,
in a room back stage.
Dressed in a white, stained
bathrobe, she asked, “Harry,
p do I look alright?”
“You look great, Babe” her
husband replied. “Uhm,
Ms. Channing” I said,
“I watched you from a
seat in the front row
I wondered whether
you’d had help, wished I’d
been there to do so.
I noticed, some hair
stood out from the rest.”
“Would you please fix them
for me my dear,” she asked.
“Yes, of course,” yes I
did, finger-comb the
strays on Carol’s head.
Then she took a nap.