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He makes me as comfortable
as a crow sipping gin in a guillotine.
I’ve never been moonstruck enough
to get blushed cheeks when a snake
calls me Sugar.
That wolf in Wranglers is more
like a piece of gum in the bottom
of my purse than the Romeo
in a mirror he sees with that comb over.
Now I’m not one to judge a man
who’s been saying goodbye to his hair,
but when he comes with a Bible
and thinks every woman is born
to submit, I’ll put on a black robe
and sentence him to leave.
This isn’t the first time he tried
to Genesis me at my cash register.
Hell, most every Tuesday night
he slaps down a six pack of Bud Light
on the counter along with an apple.
Wal-Mart expects me to be polite
so I keep that smile on my teeth,
take his money, but not his crap.
I politely inquire, “Brother Don,
does your congregation know
you like to take a bottle to visitation?
©Susie Clevenger 2025
