She swears in her head,
She says, “watch it I’ll drive my pick-up through your marble floors,”
She has a wine, says, ” you think they have a wee bit of rum”
She never drinks, only when she feels her soul laugh,
She’s not a drunk,
She smells the Mary-Jane her father smoked to ease a bit of pain in his spine,
She lived in freedom, ran over hills and oh she laughed,
She stole cars, did wheelies on her motor-cycle- okay, not hers- borrowed,
She loves to see,
She finds the flat shoes of the puritan so loud,
She says, ” you are an ass in the masses,”
She really doesn’t like bullshit, and calls it so,
She hates ties, okay, maybe not with a white shirt,
okay maybe she does like ties,
She hates loud eaters, “for goodness sake it ain’t going to jump off your plate,”
She doesn’t mind what people think, when you’ve been at the bottom, nothing you can do to make her bend,
She loves a handsome man, oh did that get her mothers in trouble, but oh goodness, how sweet,
She loves the president for free in oval offices,
She loves the sunset, she loves the moon around oceans,
She knows they think her to be unpolished,
She is raw like the ocean and won’t give it away for free,
She stands on her lawn and says, ” Man where is the dancin’, clapping to the sounds in her soul,”
She is the white trash poet, she don’t need no agent.
Continued from – Trailer Park Poet
Photo Credit
Photo By Melinda Cochrane – All Rights Reserved
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