Exes should have to wear a bell
like blues and calicos, so us birds can fly.
But all right, I'll handicraft a smile,
me in the role of a civilized adult when we
happen to cross paths.
Raise a glass to the past--
vinegar was wine once,
so drink up,
you little arched-back pussycat.
Woman, you can hide those claws real good behind that crafted/crafty smile! Here's to dark humor when it blurs the past into obsolescence and delivers good poetry! Cheers!
ReplyDeleteI wish they came with warning signs, "so us birds can fly" - would save a lot of heartache. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteLove that final stanza! After awhile, if you're lucky you just outlive all your ex's. Til then, there is poetry like this to toast in sour smiles and nail them to the wall. ~hedgewitch
ReplyDeleteA reminder of times gone by ~ buried the emotion ~ mistakenly. Now I fly. A great poem, Shay.
ReplyDelete