We passed a woman mailing a letter.
She was dressed in a burka.
You beat me to an anthrax crack.
We laughed and then condemned our eternal souls.
We consoled our guilt with righteous colloquialisms.
I'll do penance on my knees later
and perhaps I'll even swallow your
verbal excuses. Perhaps not.
Ashley says she has to stop judging people
primarily on looks.
But, we know how everyone will assess her.
Doors open for tall blondes with pretty faces.
She's quick with a joke,
quick to contort her face to
enhance a punch line.
People tell me she is "mini me"
I wish.
I see her and I imagine who
I wish I was, 20 years ago.
My mom would call her cheeky
if she was a more traditional grandma.
But she's not.
So she laughs with the rest of us at
the beauty of a gorgeous blonde
doing a dead on "Fat Bastard".
Although, I still don't buy
that her neck looks like a vagina.
Perhaps it will with age.
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