“I had a pedicure in Paris”
said the man
yes the man
sitting next to me
having a man
and chatting with the man
yes the man
who was filing away.
I have been noticing this phenomen
on lately.
They used to be such an oddity
in my nail salon.
But lately they enter
with regularity,
and take their place beside us,
we high-maintenance members
of our species,
putting their hands on the table
with temerity.
And why not?
I like a man with a well-tended hand,
fingers strong and firm,
nails clipped short and clean,
a man who thinks enough of himself
to deserve this.
Although even in my enlightened state
I draw the line
at polish that goes beyond clear
and ventures into colors
we women hold dear,
like “Ballet Slippers”
and “Wicked.”


©Ellen Azorin