| Up: 25 May 98 | [Related] «^» |
Untitled
By Paul Ford
You never cared for hair, or
clothes when we met,
and the development of style is
truly unattractive. It makes
talking a tight wire
string-tied between
two tin measuring cups.
Too much of us is like
Apologizing for a skinned knee
And ripped jeans, telling
Mom that I tripped when in truth
Some dumb kid pushed me.
My shame trebled when the scolding
For the broken pants and skin
Came, hot as my chest,
From my mother's mouth.
Too much of this is that.
A shove, a cut,
And punishment for punishment.
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