Hair And Beauty Care In The Age Of The Sinkhole Poem by Raj Dronamraju

She has her hair done, manicure and facial
As the sinkhole claims another three houses
She brought a photo from a magazine to show the hairstylist what she wanted
A gas main is ruptured, flames shoot up

The ground gives way in overdeveloped communities
Swallows whole the capitalists' typical overindulgence
The tut tut tut noise the beautician makes signals to change the television channel
No one in the beauty parlor wants to see live coverage of sinkhole destruction
The smell of the different chemicals makes her dizzy

Spa treatments restore delicate pores
Crowded wallet gang affiliations tear apart innocent soil
Consternation grips the primping customer
The mirror sets her right, path questionable on superficial earth