“can you believe i
occasionally write about
things other than love?
it’s shocking, i know”
she puts down her coffee mug
and looks at me with a
pointed intensity,
then laughs like a witch.
she’s quite frankly frightening.
“i’m too liberal for you, darling
but i fall prey to all the
same vices as you.
a little too much chocolate after a breakup
too much brooding.
we’re all alike, you know”
a few distasteful remarks-
ladies looking inside their shoes,
soles running thin from
stomping on the pavement.
i was brought up in a
mother household,
we ate food from scratch.
now i graze my tv dinners with
distaste,
and i think about how
greg said he’d call but he never called
Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 