For the Femme Frustrated

Dedicated to wives of men and mothers of sons…


Dirty socks on my floor
toothpaste like lava crusted on the sink bowl
another empty toilet paper roll
(Am I the only one with talent enough to change it? It seems)
The dog dish without food
or water
Perhaps a recorded reminder would be better
than my unproductive nagging
because I really don’t understand
how intimidating must be
the journey from countertop to dishwasher
of those used cups and bowls
to the user just inches away
yet somehow it must be miles
based on the outraged looks I get
when I gently remind
It justifies psychoanalysis
this fear of round-trip journeys
The toothpaste,hairbrush and cream
abandoned every morning
after their one-way trip from cabinet to countertop
I always thought round-trip tickets cheaper?
I know they’d save a lot for me
in resentful currency
whose surplus increases every day
It would be better to convert it into amorous dollars
to be spent in our bedroom
Not today though, I think,
as I spy the telltale yellow tinge in the toilet bowl
before I flush

…can you relate?

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