It was time. Every confession, a taunt, an effort
to denigrate, if not herself, then me.
Old age invites humiliation but being disgusting
is a choice. It’s a fashion statement; it’s a great way
to get back at a snotty son, prove him wrong.
He doesn’t come from a good family and there is not
a goddamned thing he can do about it. The little shit.
She’ll show him. He wants people to think well of him.
She’ll expose him as a fake. She’ll show everyone
his family is nothing more than trash.
He thinks he’s so refined with his fancy degrees.
She’ll get everyone to see him for what he really is,
the son of Catskill Mountain hillbillies, potato farmers,
depression-era desperados, the kind of people who pimp
their daughters to Brooks Brothers businessmen.
They were sent to the Big City to join typing pools,
spending ½ their time in the…
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