Cutting Off My Inner Woman
My inner woman came out of the closet
dressed to kill, wearing a low cut blouse,
hot to play poker, or happy to watch —
everything I thought I wanted.
We found our stride at the racetrack,
an easy rhythm right out of the gate,
but the second furlong has been a disaster —
unpleasant words exchanged with Mom,
bankbook exhausted, credit cards maxed,
a kick, a buck, a slap, a bite,
then make-ups that take forever.
Would she mind, no yum yum tonight
and hand me, please, that bottle of aspirin.
I feel a migraine coming on.
©James L. Ralston