Sunday, April 3, 2016

Working Man's Wife

I'll tell ya
I had a shape enough
to bring the boys around
and a tongue to keep 'em in line.
My big mistake was
I let that rowdy, two-fisted, crazy Jack,
whose dream of the big leagues
got drafted by the war,
seduce me across the parking lot.

Sure, he worked,
worked all those doubles at the factory
and I nursed his aching back.
But he started drinkin,
left me to bring up the kids alone,
teach 'em library books on summer days,
sitting there on the back lawn.

They're grown now.

And I'm tired.
Tired of him and the youngest boy, fightin...
Tired of his stupid jokes.
Tired of this house, this street.
Tired of life.

Tonight I could not cram down his throat
the pill keeps him from drinkin himself to death.
Out of his daughter's hand he took it like a baby.

What's anybody want with me any more?
Let him sleep in the cellar with the dog!
I'll scream down the stairs,
“Come on up, Jack, damn you,”
I'll let him know.
I don't want to be alone any more.
But how can I drag him out?
He won't, he won't...

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