Poetry

A Difficult First Date

Philippa Martyr

Don’t you dare just sit there and think,

And tell me that life is terribly hard,

And from holy charity buy me a drink

And put my soul on your credit card.

Don’t you dare come over here and whine,

And sit yourself down in my private woes

And ooze your sorrows all over mine,

And leave blobs of pain on my new red shoes.

Don’t you dare pick up your stinking glass

And walk away shaking your sapient head

Or I’ll scream the scream of the middle class

And make you wish you were already dead.