April 3, 2006
Gertrude's Philosophy
after a (much better) poem by R. S. Gwynn
The life seems nice enough until you find
your husband gone, your only son a loon,
the lonely nights grown longer. Winter's grind
means insulation must be put in soon.
That stuff ain't cheap.
O, summer! Why do you deny your season?
I've half a mind to fall for Claud and quell
the itch within me. "Parties need no reason,"
he always says. So cute! Oh, what the hell,
I'll take the leap.
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