Whoa, Nellie
This goes here, and that goes there; for everything, its place:
the spice-rack for oregano, the toilet for my face.
Now, some'll say, down East-away, one's face ought be protected
but, when your lover's done you wrong, and all you've got's affected,
the smiles, the deference that all and sundry pay, and you're,
when not the butt of jokes, what folks'll say they pity (''Poor,
dear thing,'' they coo, on laundry day, unmentionables hangin'
for all the world to see, who wants to look. ''I heard the bangin',
last night; Lord knows what's goin' on. I don't know how she does it.
He drinks, you know...'' A pregnant pause, a knowing look. Then, ''Was it
Sue Ellen he was with, last Monday?'' knowing, all too well,
it wasn't. ''Quiet! Here she comes!'') as they consign to Hell,
you figure that you might as well admit that what you're eatin',
whenever you walk out your door, is what you cooked, by bleatin'.
Ol' Sarah'd seemed to sympathize, and Beth, about to boil,
but that's but bait, 'cause ain't no gem can shine without a foil;
and when they focus on themselves, and want to blow their brains out,
they'll think of you and realize that getting all the stains out
of their own sheets and underwear ain't all that necessary,
because, at least, their man's no drunk, no skunk, no freak, no fairy.
And so, they shine, in their own minds, because it could be worse,
if they'd been you; and, satisfied, can shift into reverse,
instead of driving off a cliff and, thus, becoming grist
for someone else's rumor mill. It's true, I've got a list
of crimes I've perpetrated and of injuries sustained
that's ten miles long, in pica type; but also, that I've gained,
by making up that list and looking at it, long and hard,
awareness that, in all the world, I like my own back yard
as much, or better than, whatever others I might choose from.
Pretended shock is schlock that rockers who know mountain dew's cum
can laugh, to see displayed at work, at school, at church, or grave-side
(''Just look at what she's wearing!''), wide, well-traveled, and well-paved: Pride.
''The woman that you gave me gave it me, and so, I ate,''
he said. But I, who saw and, wanting, took, accept my fate.
By Conjurico
© 2008 Conjurico
(All rights reserved)
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