i want to write a poem for the women on long island who smoke cigarettes in their suvs with the windows rolled up before walking into yoga who hack and curse in downward dog and deborah from the next block over who has strong opinions about christmas lights after new years says that her body isnt what it used to be but neither is the economy or the bagels at rickmans deli so who really cares and during shavasana she brings up the rabbis daughter who got an abortion last spring and candy in the corner calls deborah hateful and the class takes a sharp inhale in through the nose then out through the mouth and after class after candy rushes home to check the lasagna deborah lights up a smoke and calls her friend tammy so then the girl calls me hateful hateful can you believe it what a word some kind of dictionary bitch over here so ya know what i says i says you dont know the first thing about hateful ya wanna know whats hateful menopause and it doesnt really matter if deborah actually said that to candy which she didnt because tammy is so caught up that candy called deborah hateful which she did that next week when tammy runs into candy while shopping in rockville center and candy asks tammy how shes doing tammy will adjust the purse strap on her shoulder and say we all have a little coal in our stocking candy and candy will shuffle away certain that tammy knows something about her marriage that she shouldnt and she doesnt she just loves deborah who has a lot of opinions and had candy given her the chance to finish her sentence deborah would have talked about the reproductive rights march she went to in the 60s and the counterproductive sex shaming methods of organized religion i want to write a poem for the women on long island whose words stretch and curl like bubblegum around the forefinger who ask if i have a boyfriend and before i answer say dont do it dont ever do it yknow my friend linda shes a lesbian like a real lesbian and whenever i go over there she lives on corona over by merrick by the laundromat yknow what im talking about whenever i go over there and see her and her wife whats her name i can never remember the girls name anyway whenever i go over there i says ya know what i need i says a girlfriend thats what i need the women on long island let their teenage daughters throw parties in the basement while they watch the home network upstairs and keep the bat by the couch in case anyone gets roofied even if its their own son who did the drugging the women on long island wont put it past any man to be guilty even their kin who after all have their husbands hands and blood and last week when a girl was murdered while jogging in queens the women on long island were unstartled and furious they did not call to warn their daughters they called their sons sat them at the kitchen table and said if you ever and i mean ever so much as make a woman feel uncomfortable i will take you to the deli and put your hand in the meat slicer you think i wont you hear me i will make a hero out of you with mayonnaise and tomatoes and dill and onions i want to write a poem for the women on long island who when i show them the knife i carry in my purse tell me its not big enough who are waitresses and realtors and massage therapists and social workers and housewives and tell me they wish they would have been artists but life comes fast ya know one minute youre taking typing classes for your new secretary job in the world trade center and the next its almost over life i mean but i kicked and screamed my way through it and so will you i can tell by the way you walk one more thing when they call you a bitch say thank you thank you very much 