She thought that all I did was to keep house
That she could waltz right in and take my man
from me and I’d stay silent as a mouse.
That I’d fight back was never in her plan.
And yet how could I not when all I knew
was heading West with Laura and her hair
of yellow and her sparkling eyes of blue,
her scarlet nails and fashion savoir faire.
But then she learned: You cannot run in heels,
as I slid up the gear lever to “Drive.”
It took me hours to scrape her off the wheels.
Laura’s no more; this mouse is still alive.
She lies beneath the sod, and moulders now;
But then, she always was a rotten cow.
My book Death of a Diva is out now from Fahrenheit Publishing.
To buy it, click here.