Once you have experienced ecstasy you will never again settle for anything but
They leave their husbands for this dull French homme.
Not even a funny, paunchy balding guy, Incredable!
Those of us that are women or know women, Certainment
this pencil pusher would have to be nice to be someone’s fantasy.
The screen writer making these sisters falling for his really bad lines.
More than the mirror, never sells. Stay home and do Rosetta Stone.
Don’t think us morose, but the poet wrote that day
on gazing at a leaf swirling in the river, distracted
from his suicide attempt, precisely how I ended up in
a limestone amphitheater in my Einstein T shirt
with unwashed hair, self conscious of my footwear
Saving the $40 to tell a therapist that all is not well
in thoughts that swing from joy of giving that child
an unexpected basket to how quiet death must be
So early, I drive in the dark and finely notice an eclipse!
My full moon, without my permission, was it less a power?
These people did not appeal to me until I heard them recite
I sat in the car with a stranger and told him I needed to practice
and I read Ed’s poem with all the Fucks that I had not previewed
How funny that I love the poems of so many, strangers no more
Pickled okra, tiny fermented onions and balls of mozzarella
then one final reenactment with sign language and in Navajo
Those days when my bikini bottom slipped too far south
the white men’s undershirt scandalously showed areola
Now a cupful of the ordinary everyday, don’t look up, tea
dandelions carpet the brand new lawns, with their maturity
Less fawned over, than the lilacs and Easter lilies of spring
Seasoned women are not to be played with, we know too much