Nov 2015
Feb 3 1978
There is no substance to you
you float like a feather
you behave like a child
you are composed of little laughs
and tiny giggles
glued together by flour and water.
The only reason you drink
is so it will collect in your eyes.
You put on your finest stockings
you look in the mirror
and lift you dress up your thighs
Your legs are still shapely and smooth
You know you are a woman
you feel that hunger.
You unbutton your top
a little lower
and get a light for your cigarette.
To hell with independence,
you’re getting older
you need a man.
J. H. Webb
There is no substance to you
you float like a feather
you behave like a child
you are composed of little laughs
and tiny giggles
glued together by flour and water.
The only reason you drink
is so it will collect in your eyes.
You put on your finest stockings
you look in the mirror
and lift you dress up your thighs
Your legs are still shapely and smooth
You know you are a woman
you feel that hunger.
You unbutton your top
a little lower
and get a light for your cigarette.
To hell with independence,
you’re getting older
you need a man.
J. H. Webb
