The High Roller Derby Narrows
by gerard sarnat
Rodeo Drive’s few short blocks don’t offer much space.
Under harsh sun, once beautiful Beverly Hills’ babes —
yesteryear’s trophy wives, mistresses, whores, Harlows —
show their age despite all the face, breast, and waist work.
Still in denial, these enraged old hens’ elbows and glares
struggle to muscle aside today’s generation of girls
(their own gorgeous grandkids?) from Dior’s doors
— keep ’em preening outside Pierre Deux primacy.