A poem for George

hey georgie boy
did you see “The Wrestler”?
watching Marisa Tomei
stirs out this sentimental shit again
damn, in our dreams she never gets old
what of the make-up and the cinematic tone
how she fools us because she never hides her age
she can’t be the stripper (yes, she is)
who rubs her ribs on the dancing pole
you would have loved
to be an extra in that sleazy bar
having a bitter beer and a crumpled fiver
i know I would.

by Jay Coral