April 21, 2009 in Wordsmoker Poetry
When I am an old woman I shall wear a Snuggie
with a home arrest anklet which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on knives and small explosives
And bail money and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit on the pavement when I’m high
And gobble up samples of Klonopin and set small fires
And run my cane along children’s faces
And serve time for the parole violations of my youth
I shall go out with my monitoring device in the rain
And snatch money from my neighbors’ homes
And learn to Tweet
You can wear terrible Crocs and grow more fat
And drink three double shots of tequila at a go
Or only Gatorade and Funyuns for a week
And hoard ShamWows and PedEggs and sell stolen goods on eBay.
But now we must have clothes that cover our bits
And pay the hooker and not punch strangers in the street
And be a cautionary tale for the children.
We must keep the meth lab tidy and read the blogs.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When I am old, and start to wear nothing under my Snuggie
*With apologies to Jenny Joseph.