I feel myself crossing the double yellow line,
into the lane of a demon woman and full of hellish fire. It is the line that divides those that still care from those that just, whatever.
Never thought I’d be a don’t care, no dreamer, no hope woman
but I am there. What is God telling me? What is the message?
Why am I meeting pitiful people? Do they reflect me?
Do they mimic me? Do breasts mean everything?
Was my youth my only charm?
Why are men blocking instead of
buying me drinks?
Why do they
prick, instead of prune?
Only when they are detonated with insults do they respond.
Is the strong female driven Hollywood character
emblazoning every commercial, film, ad, and song
Stolen the testosterone?
I am going to look for the eighties woman I was. She was
full of laughter, confidence, romance and aspiration.