Expectations

She expected everything.
All things consumable,
gifted upon silver platters.
Nothing else mattered you see,
except around,
and exactly
where she be.
It was her spot of Rome.
It was her comfort zone.
No support
would be given
outside of her smudgy
lines that begrudgingly
striped those walls.
This man, that man,
those people...
She took their time
and pocketed what she needed.
A well oiled vacuum.
Sucking ferociously.
Ah, there was only room for one.
Her feet sat prim and proper
as her judgments
flung themselves on the floor.
"It's my age that will
      show you to the door" she'd say.
No one dared ruffle her feathers.
Those freshly shined,
pointy-shoed feet never
stepped outside of
her comfort zone.