My grandmother
       switched from Schlitz to Michelob
             from single pearl earrings to mod clip-ons,
from Pall Malls to long menthols

She drove Route 66 to Vegas
          subscribed to B-movie mags
                  more Mamie Van Doren
than Marilyn Monroe, her curly blue-

rinsed hair flew like a swallow
          traversing the Mississippi Flyway
                    She ditched pillbox hats
& tailored Jackie Kennedy suits

for polyester pants & permanent pressed
             tops — geometric mazes, lava lamp swirls
                      neon bouquets, polka dots
the size of ping pong balls

She joined the Church of Velour
                 & never again ironed wrinkled shirts
                        wiggled into a Sunday dress
or confessed in a cloistered booth

Defined by her walk-in closets & rhinestones,
                we buried her in a silk-lined knock-off
                        Valentino gold pantsuit and double
string of polished pink simulated pearls.