She sat on the sofa paintin’ her fingernails glittery red…blowin’ on ’em occassionally…watchin’ the color dry under a gold lit lamp…elbow on an arm-rest…a bottle of lavender oil sittin’ on the table next to her…she took whiffs of it off and on…made her eyes tired as she dreamt of a good night sleep…a good night sleep…

And the television was on…late night infomercials daring her to call the 1-800 number and order her very own heart…a brand new one…she was in need of a brand new heart…somethin’ that would match her deep dark blue soul on Saturday nights when she went out on the town by herself…weavin’ down Lawrence to Broadway where jazz played ’til three in the mornin’ and guys would corral ’round her like lions over a lost lamb…,hey honey could I buy you a drink…let me walk you home…what’s a fine gal like you doin’ here by yourself…bartender…hey bartender…, and on and on they would go…callin’ out into the night as she sat there takin’ it all in like a cat to milk…she never said yes…but she never said no…she’d grown cold…men do that to ya…old men young men middle aged salesmen from Rockville or Milwaukee…maybe Michigan…or Madison…anywhere from the tri-state area…they were all in town tryin’ to score ‘fore goin’ back home to wives…girlfriends…mistresses…secretaries who had roses brought to ’em on Monday morns…,two sugars and three creams please…,seated at their desks waitin’ to be served…waitin’ to be served…

Comes a time when a girl gets tired of the game…flirting game…and that’s why she sat alone at night doing her nails…tired of clowns and acrobats…grown men actin’ a fool…young sensitive artist types playin’ a role…seein’ how far they could get ‘fore she’d yell…Curtain…the end of a show…

The end of a show…

She sat on the sofa paintin’ her fingernails glittery red…