Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Today, a total loss, nothing could’ve been done to save it. Today was relegated to the wierdos, the lady who wears her cat on her head, her daughter’s miniskirt hovers just below her naughty bits as I ask momma my litany. And, I’m an all-American red-blood, to be sure. I would look, I would, but that poor kiddo’s got a face like a trainwreck, so none of it looks worth looking at, if you ask me. I’m just trying to get out the door of the cat-hatted lady and her daughter, the clockstopper. Getting back to the office, putting some desk-time in, I call the war vet with the PTSD so deep that it’s in his DNA. His voice, so quiet the rage underneath is audible. Cradling the phone, I fret for just a bit, wondering if his meds are doing their duty, and pondering the next visit to his address. *** ©2015 P&ZPublications; -JBClaywell
0
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
Relegated to The Wierdos (A Social-Worker Poem)
Today, a total loss, nothing could’ve been done to save it. Today was relegated to the wierdos, the lady who wears her cat on her head, her daughter’s miniskirt hovers just below her naughty bits as I ask momma my litany. And, I’m an all-American red-blood, to be sure. I would look, I would, but that poor kiddo’s got a face like a trainwreck, so none of it looks worth looking at, if you ask me. I’m just trying to get out the door of the cat-hatted lady and her daughter, the clockstopper. Getting back to the office, putting some desk-time in, I call the war vet with the PTSD so deep that it’s in his DNA. His voice, so quiet the rage underneath is audible. Cradling the phone, I fret for just a bit, wondering if his meds are doing their duty, and pondering the next visit to his address. *** ©2015 P&ZPublications; -JBClaywell
jay-claywell
Written by
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem