The Smooth Sounds of Auntie Lou's Rawlings

by James A. Wren

        unshaken by rumors of recession
                 cackling hens
                whistling women

      stronger than any physician's remedy
          bran fibre or an apple a day
                  you old fart

        "Got five digits after my name,"
              he'd bragged all night,
    "and a police record as long as my arm."

           "It's called 'hall sex,'"
               she rubbed passed
                whispering "screw you."

               "kinda in a hurry.
          Just soup and salad, please.
      No time to part your beef curtains."

         you have to rub an old radish
                 long and hard
     --but only if that's what you really want

                potatoes or eggs
             bananas or sticky rice
     since when did dating become a buffet?

                "A muff-diver?"
                  she questioned.
        "Didn't know you had a license."

               a thing of beauty
                 a toy forever
           --or until I scrape up cabfare

               comfort, not speed
                motion, not size
   a Prozac a day, dear, or none of the above

             a fresh loaf of bread
             straight from the oven
        --but where did you find the yeast?

             I've worked under him
                   for years
              --maybe I need a day job
             --maybe he needs a desk

        women and elephants never forget
               cameras never lie
             wedding ring, and pets
            forbidden in this house

                  When in doubt
      just cry out "fire!" or "last call."
               If all else fails
              turn on the lights.
                     I did.

The Smooth Sounds of Auntie Lou's Rawlings by James A. Wren

© Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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