Nails

The long talon-like nails 
         of the girl
                      with the gray hair
        fascinated me.
The polymer-coated extensions
         clicked together
                       as she traced
         her coffee’s rim.

The impatient signal sent
         around the crowded diner
                        swam unanswered.
Like Morse Code,
         the tapping message
                        searched
         for a receiver. 

But those nails…!

Patent leather
     like the smooth surface
                of a new Corvette
    Fire Engine Red.
Perhaps, the answer
     is there
              in a man’s hand
              and s t r o k i n g palm
down the newly waxed fender
            he caresses
talking of cams and pistons
           admiring the deep crimson paint
                    the fender’s bend
                           and curve
            so smooth
                  and highly polished
like those nails.