Lunch With The Girls

Helena was the QUEEN,
in all capital letters,
who told us all what to wear
’cause, heaven forbid,
we might wear something
that didn’t match her choice today.

And if we wanted to be included,
sitting beside the QUEEN at lunch,
there were definite rules to follow.

Like how your hair should be split
down the middle with tiny braids
fringing your face
or tied with a ribbon,
but never a scrunchie,
or light jeans with rips
placed ‘just so’ at the knees
or t-shirts with messages
that make her laugh.

You could, if given permission,
get away with a slight deviation
from the expected dress du jour,
but there had better be
an excuse she can tell
worthy of nods
for the group acceptance,
their superior acknowledgement
of your final realization
that you are
just not worthy.

Thirty years later,
I can finally shout,
“SUCK IT, HELENA!”
in all capital letters.