Home of chicken tenders and tater tots,
Yummy mummys in skinny jeans and control issues,
MILFs in Dior mascara and Spanx.
I squeeze my ass into a fifth-grade chair
and think: Pilates, Pilates, Pilates.
The blond bird in front begins flapping her wings,
shows us where the oxygen masks are. Buckle up, she warns.
Blink and your kid is ruined for life.
Drugs! Alcohol! STDs! Blow jobs in seventh grade!
We're talking permanent record fuck-up here,
so keep those sign-up sheets moving, sisters.
Book drives! Wrapping paper sales! Teacher appreciation!
Annual fund time and your husband works on Wall Street?
Ca-ching! Ca-ching! Ca-ching!
And welcome to bake sale purgatory,
extra credit for raw sugar and Meyer lemons,
Your kid might even go Ivy League.
But me? I was caught red-handed, with
City Bakery brownies disguised as homemade.
Filled with hot buttered shame,
I slink into the confessional, another epic PTA fail.
Posts
Anyone who gives you the stink eye for bringing City Bakery brownies is dead inside! Those sweet brown baked babies are SO. GOOD.
ReplyDeleteI love this. It's one I would not have recognized as yours (I think you said it was a writing assignment, very different from your usual style) and let me tell you, beautiful woman: I LOVE IT.
ReplyDelete@Victoria I agree! City Bakery brownies are yummy. Although I have to say, my homemade brownies are pretty delish, too.
ReplyDelete@lisa Yes, it was for a specific writing assignment, quite different from the usual things I write. I had fun with it!
A few people have asked and yes, this poem was for a specific (over-the -top) writing assignment. Not my usual style but I had fun with it. And I freaked my mother out a little. Hopefully I'm not grounded.
ReplyDeleteKath,
ReplyDeleteYou capture the scene brilliantly!