Something Golden
There’s a house
in the swampland
where the girls–oh
the girls!–they give praise
to one another, to time,
to the sun
The world didn’t forget there
the girls–oh the girls–
celebrated small adventures
small loves
massive hearts
free, from it all
The girls of gold
mother and daughter and
sisters-not-by-blood
We give thanks
to the girls–oh the girls–
for being friends
again, back
and down
the road
Rose
Girl, when you
were golden
you smelled so sweet
I could lick your scent
You are still a Betty,
Distracted by shiny metal
and reflected starlight
You absorb heat
and exhale sunfire sonnets
you silly goose
I’d give my ribs
for a high tea with you
to slap five
with those old hands
wrinkled and wise
A bygone era
didn’t pass you by
You passed it
Dorothy
I’m not here to
call collect
It’s the 90s and that’s a thing
that still happens.
You’re here, to be tall
and proud
and sassy, jaded
a voice of reason in a world
without
The distance between now
and then, me and you
has shortened and I see
that you’re the only one
who knows their shit
I wish
that I could stop the me
watching you
and say look closer
touch deeper
your future is on
that screen
and Dorothy
is you
Dorothy is
all of us
Sophia
Growing old down here
isn’t so bad
shadows grow longer as the days refuse to
concede. You’re amongst friends, daughters,
soul sisters. Gitchie, gitchie, ya-ya, da-da
It’s not that you like Florida
You just like death less
Life at the Equator has its
advantages. You fingers burn less
and your dreams spawn all the beautiful boys
you knew generations ago
They still love you there
You haven’t forgotten them
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
You’ve still got it
You never lost it
You’re not sour, you know
You’re not really mean
You’ve just seen the joivre de vivre that
taking the piss really is
Life’s a joke and you’re just here
for the laugh track
You aim to go down swinging
in the last years
You have left
Au revoir les enfants
Blanche
Nobody ever believes me when
i’m telling the truth
I guess it is the curse
Flirting is part of my heritage
I got arrested at
a party in Chattanooga because
I mixed a margarita
in a sailor’s mouth
I was upset
that I was not the center of attention
Isn’t it amazing?
My toe is on the line
I feel so bad
I look so good
If you’ll excuse me I’ll
take a nice hot, steamy–
what am I doing here?
I feel like the middle of an awful dream
get the net
treat my body like a temple
I am shocked
It’s not pertinent at the moment
I want details
I have no secrets
God, I wish
I was dead
*all lines taken from Golden Girls scripts
***
Michael B. Tager is a writer and editor. Find out more at michaelbtager.com. He is happy you are reading his work.
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