Musings by The Poet Loriet
Midnight Confessions
Midnight Confessions
We're still legally married,
but my husband
is a stranger.
Oddly enough,
when he glares at me,
saying, "Oh yeah, baby,
I've still got it,
could've had any woman
at the bar last night,"
I feel nothing...
but disgust.
When he talks about
dancing with Carrie,
who was "soooo attractive"
(but he still thought of me)
or--
discovering the magic
of belly button rings,
I just grin at him
in disbelief.
Why don't I feel
any pangs of jealousy?
I know he wants me to...
but I no longer feel--
anything but pity--
for the meat market
of innocent young girls
(every Thomasina, Dictalina and Harrietta)
that my husband
is descending upon
with his smooth-talking,
butt-grabbing ways...
and for all of the
not-so innocent ones,
watch your step.
My kids' daddy
is still a little boy,
out to prove
with a vengeance
his divorced white male
virility
to any "thing"
estrogen-pumping
in a skirt--
but he's still a
college party boy
that never grew up,
and at age
thirty-two,
never will.
So...
dance with him,
screw him--
he's all yours.
Just don't
give him your heart.
He'll never change.
Lori Beal
We're still legally married,
but my husband
is a stranger.
Oddly enough,
when he glares at me,
saying, "Oh yeah, baby,
I've still got it,
could've had any woman
at the bar last night,"
I feel nothing...
but disgust.
When he talks about
dancing with Carrie,
who was "soooo attractive"
(but he still thought of me)
or--
discovering the magic
of belly button rings,
I just grin at him
in disbelief.
Why don't I feel
any pangs of jealousy?
I know he wants me to...
but I no longer feel--
anything but pity--
for the meat market
of innocent young girls
(every Thomasina, Dictalina and Harrietta)
that my husband
is descending upon
with his smooth-talking,
butt-grabbing ways...
and for all of the
not-so innocent ones,
watch your step.
My kids' daddy
is still a little boy,
out to prove
with a vengeance
his divorced white male
virility
to any "thing"
estrogen-pumping
in a skirt--
but he's still a
college party boy
that never grew up,
and at age
thirty-two,
never will.
So...
dance with him,
screw him--
he's all yours.
Just don't
give him your heart.
He'll never change.
Lori Beal
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Midnight Confessions
Midnight Confessions
