Whiskey Memories third edit

[tectak]

Whiskey Memories

As a child she was fat like her mother,
arms and legs sausage tight and round,
her aunts rolled their eyes, wagged their heads,
knowing she would never get a man.

Now she’s almost grown, eighteen,
working at the Side Track Grill,
made-up eyes dark and smoky, with See end on line break words. with is weak
hips, grandma said, made for birthing.

The boys act the fool around her,
with spotted chins, sleeveless shirts
dreaming of her legs round their waists
hips rolling like the wheels of a chevy.

Even the grown men after work,
watch the way she flips her hair
the way she laughs, the way she
spews anger out her eyes when she sees you looking.

They down a scotch or two,
then drive the blacktop road home
to their memories of dark-eyed girls,
home to their dreams of success,
home to their wives, now stubborn and sour,
who want more than they can give.

Hi beaufort,
Where did this come from....it is very good. You have taken a short story and hung another on to it, then another, then another...so conceptually it is dense with information and complexity. The final layer is your own place on the stage and you have succeeded in being just sufficiently opinionated to avoid being judgmental or preachy. How to improve it? Well, I am loathe to say that you should mechanise the meter and so I will not...instead, take a look at your line breaks and flow.
Take this as an example:

Even the grown men, after work
watch the way she flips her hair,
the way she laughs and then spews anger
out of her eyes when she sees them look.

It is not strict meter but the poem itself does not need it...it is what it is. You could look again at the one issue of flow, but don't over edit. Sometimes a stone unturned gains great moss.
Best,
tectak