To This Day I Remember Wanting to Strangle M. Strickland
Hands around throat,
breath on the choke.
My bulbous eyes
took his butt by surprise.
Yes! I whinnied,
while he wiggled by his
neck through the middle
of the vice of my hands.
I had plans!
I had plans!
But orgasmic reverie
ushered sense back to me
as I plopped
at my desk
mopping up Strickland’s mess.
Left by him on a whim –
For a VEEP he’s so dim.
How’d you get where you are?
You’re a hitch on whose star?
Ah! It’s time for the money –
Check withholdings, right honey?
Exchange cash at the bank
keep my man in the swank
and some food on the table
so my kids will be able
to run their own show
when they up, out and grow
and make their own way –
won’t get caught in the fray
of a fool’s paradise.
Corporate life ain’t that nice
when you gotta kiss feet to bring
meat for the eat.
No. No Stricklands for them
who blow by on a whim
with a mess to mop up.
For my kids: better lot
then a desk and a pen and
a pad and a phone.
So I make my way home
and remember the day
I resisted putting M. Strickland away.
◊ ◊ ◊
