A poem: Never no more

Never no more
Never no more

It was just one slap.

Didn’t even hurt that much.

Shuddered your walls though.

 

It was just the one slap

As if to correct an unruly child.

(taking candy without asking!)

One of those e-d-u-c-a-t-i-o-n-a-l ones.

with the certainty of more.

(If you persist, that is.)

But  you are no kid   no more.

And  you don’t take no shite.

Not from anyone.

Not anymore.

 

Not from your ex.

(His shite you put up with for so long, so very long)

 

Not from your internet suitors.

(Virtual dating shite, that is.)

And not from him no more,

not anymore.

 

It was the weakest of pats.

The kind you gave your kids once.

(Long time, long time ago.)

That kind he gave you now.

(Then and now, then and now.)

But you’re no kid no more,

not anymore.

 

It barely brushed your cheek.

but it iced your soul.

A  chilled chilling silence spreading

(to the back seats).

Your children, subdued

“If you are going to be like that,”

he says,

“you better get out!.”

 

And you do.

For you’re no kid no more,

not anymore.

 

He is the first man,

and he won’t be the last.

But you won’t take no shite no more,

not anymore,

never no more.

 

Mr Perfect

Sarah sat at her favorite table in that little Italian restaurant on the corner of Sixth Street and Main when Mr Perfect walked in. Of course, he did not wear a tag that said he was Mr Perfect, but she knew he was the moment she saw him. He was slender and dressed in a white jacket with stone washed jeans. He had a catchy smile, was slightly unshaven, had short curly hair and when he passed her table a scent of man lingered.

Sarah was a longtime single pushing thirty and that made her walk over to his table and ask him if he would like to have some company. He gave her his infectious smile, stood up and offered her a chair. At the end of a delightful evening he paid their bill and then accompanied her outside, where he hailed a cab.

When they arrived at her house he helped her out of the cab and then took her hand and said to her, “Dear Sarah, I loved the dinner, I loved the conversation and would love to do it again.”
“You are so Mr Perfect.” Sarah breathed, ”Do you want to come in..?”
He gave her that smile again but with a hint of sadness, “ Lovely Sarah, I might be Mr Perfect to you, bui..,” He stopped for a moment.
“Yes?”
“..but you are not to me.”
He gave her an apologizing smile, kissed her hand, got back into the cab and had it drive off into the star spangled night to find his own Mr Perfect.

For my friend: Misaki Andel and the love of his life Davie Holden.