Second Half
Mary Winters
Now you’ve got perfect pitch:
“Bambi” is dead - that cute cute
wife - so you need some new
friends; someone who says you’re
hot stuff, says let’s talk, let’s
strip to the waist, let’s touch
and blurt out “sweetness!” How
you were hut by giving out
giving up giving in. When hatred
became not just the passionate
split second but most of the time.
When you still want to hear about
a man’s first shave, that winning
goal. What if you had no grown-ups
- just a child or two to love.
What if squirrels and pigeons and
mice started drifting into your
house to build nests thinking it
empty. So you’ve rewritten the
law of self-preservation:
you don’t kill yourself to get
food clothing and shelter.
Perfect too your dismissal of an
exhausting with - a poison. Sat
down at the keyboard, punched in
Help, then Delete and Cancel. You
at a point of arrival; so much for
the first forty years...
