‘Tween Sizes

A little humor to start my day. This is about as poetic as I can get today.  Dedicated to frustrated parents of “tweens.” You know who you are.  To the tune of “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore” by Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond. (Well, it drifts away but oh well. This isn’t meant to be iconic.) Yes I’m getting old.  Ahem….

Tween Sizes

 

You don’t fit in Children’s

You’re too young for Junior’s…

Can fit no more through this dressing room door

I even ripped clothes off of every display

 

I remember when….

You used to love your Carter’s

Osh Kosh B’Gosh would thrill you…

Now you want skirts half-way up your backside…..

“Mom you just have no style…

You still say “outta sight!”

“Honey, I’m not that old– and my taste doesn’t “bite”….

Why must you make clothes shopping such a chore?”

 

Now I know what friends meant–

They said my day was coming….

Now every shopping trip ends in a fight

“Mom I just have to have these!”

“Child those jeans are too tight!”

“No they fit fine, I swear it…I’m just bloated tonight!”

“Honey I don’t think you’ll lose 15 pounds in one night—

So hang them on the “NO” hook, on the door.”

 

Can’t wait to get the hell out

Of this store…

And I won’t bring you shopping….

anymore….

 

Day’s Work

Please, leave me in peace

Can you not see my turmoil?

I spend my days

attempting to weave rhymes through my fingers

with clenched fists

teasing  out knots and frays and

excising specks of dust from cobwebs until only

a wrecked whole with sticky notes remains

Nothing to show, no spoils

of victory at the end of the day

You standing here reminds me of what I ought to be doing–

Something worthwhile and productive

Something lucrative and secure

Or, something like doing laundry

or sweeping floors.

How dare you invade this room,

your hammer swinging from your hip

in perfect three-quarter measure

and trample all over my juxtaposition

with your perfect meter

This is border-line harrassment

I suppose you would like me to pick up the broom

and sweep up these broken couplets littering your room

and toss them away with the mud from your shoes

 

Just go—leave me in peace

to play my solitary game

without a full deck

 

The saw hums quietly in the distance while

The  leaking faucet you came in to fix mocks me….

Drip drip drip