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Understanding Women

Grassfly didn’t understand women;
Never quite grasped their fundamental
Psychology; never quite knew the trick
To get them on his side. His mother was
A matriarch who ruled the home with a
Big stick and a tongue like a viper’s spit.
Got to understand women, son, she’d say,
Else your limp life’ll be worth shit. He loved
To play piano; it gave him an outlet playing
His Schubert or Chopin pieces against the
Backdropp of his mother’s tongue. His woman
Friend, Big Bess, who wore outlandish clothes
And an XXL dress, was a mystery to him, like
Some character from Finnegan’s Wake, who
Loved to dance and say, Look Boy, see my big
Ass shake. Grassfly thought women an enigma;
God’s afterthought; the proverbial eater of
Apples, the talker with snakes. He played his
Piano pieces, watched with dulled disinterest,
Big Bess’s breasts and broad ass shake.

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