Monday, May 10, 2010
I feel alive and not drugged by that stuff I was on.
It reminds me of how things used to be back then,
When I had my dolls
And Mama had her men,
But I can see you don't believe me.
Springtime is so lovely here.
That's when Papa had his breakdown every year,
Strolling without a care on the factory floor,
Or the courthouse square
In his underwear.
Such a sensitive man, you have no idea.
Don't look so nervous.
Why can't we be friends? Is there some rule?
Some terrible taboo?
Minutes are like hours here.
Really be in it, dear.
Soon lunch time will arrive,
And the police, and the townies drinking beer
Along the fence line. They know that I'm a handsome woman still.
Yes, I know what they're thinking,
And how to use this thing.
My brother robbed banks and taught me well.