by Glen Martin Fitch
First fact of bitter life:
all parents lie.
Not just the loss of Santa
made me grieve
I was a fool!
Now how could not deny
I’d ever been so stupid
to believe?
Humiliated,
shamed
I grew morose.
My parents feared
I wanted to be cruel
as I absorbed the gruesome
and the gross.
I mastered farce,
sarcasm, ridicule.
Years later,
overwhelmed by sex,
the lewd gave me relief.
We come to terms with death
through satire, wit.
We learn what’s cool, what’s crude.
Those jokes of puss and barf
and snot and shit
were more than just rebellion
on my part.
It's all absurd!
Just laugh.
We belch!
We fart!
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011