Next to her, a monster
with purple moustache
leafs through People magazine
while a minion files
scarlet talons.

You've got to admit
much is to be said for men
beleaguered species though they be
no compulsion there to stave off
the encroaching inroads
of time and decay
by weekly descents
into Dante's Inner Circle.

"See you next Friday, hon"
says the harpy at the desk
I pick up keys and flee
to face cruel sunlight
and the lengthening shadows
on the parking lot.