Michael Montlack: Karen

What age, outfit, expression
will be there at the gate?
Not the last you: limbs
clenched, refusing
to release your essence.

And not
the anxious twenty-something
whose husband bolts post-diagnosis.

How about the high-schooler
with Mae West lips and a face
skinny girls envy, lip-lining
perfectly during a parallel park,
the not-yet-released U2 single
blaring from the cassette deck–
an intern perk at WLIR, where
producers insist That chick
with the bourbon voice
answer all listener calls.

Still taking requests?
That Karen, please.