Western woman

“I am alone and think I will always be, I can’t find a decent man anymore”
She sat complaining to a group of women in a café
her friends
many in the same resigned pose
over lattes, no cake-too fattening
on a weekday morning, think about that
her first husband she treated poorly
didn’t like his hair, clothes, his friends
those odd little ways, mannerisms
where they lived
so changed him piece by piece
in a twenty year program of snide asides
the long hate crime of ‘you’re not quite right’
everything he stood for,
which in the end was not much
until the divorce
where she took half of everything
which isn’t a lot
unless you are the one who built it up
and started again
in the quest for mr right
found herself back on the ocean floor
out fishing
but the bait is no longer fresh
the fish are no longer finding the hook
they’ve spent decades being
criticised
and
they ain’t biting
this time they intend to keep
what they’ve created from scratch
this next time, if there is a next time, its
no marriage, no kids, no changes
that old hard road was trodden plenty before
and for her
when she does land one
nothing is new
including making him happy
he likes the sex
but it ain’t a weapon no more
to use to change his views
the way his things are
the critique needs, must be held inside
behind the paint once thrown so lightly
now slap laid on thick
and those hips
ache in the morning
if not the rest of the day
all this adds to the lines
on that once oh so pretty face
the twisted down of used to be open smile
because deep in her heart
she knows it was the younger woman
created all of this mess
screwed up the lovely game
not that I’m laying off all the man blame
he’s being what he’s always been
a man needing love
security
a warm place beside the fire
a home
atmosphere to be light
so he never fought to shut her up
to calm down her tempered ways
thinking hers the majority view
until the day she said goodbye
and took it all away
now she wants it all back
the good old days again
doesn’t understand the price he paid.

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