Monday, December 5, 2011

Dangerous Questions

She said she was not satisfied,

With the way she looked,

Her hair was too straight,

Too curly or something like that,

Then she asked me, “Am I too fat?”

Now I like to tell it straight,

But no way did I want to tempt fate,

 Any answer I gave might be suicide,

Since there was no place to hide,

I couldn’t avoid her question but I tried,                                                                    

“If straight hair makes you happy,

Or if you wanted to wear a hat,

I could go for that,”

I didn’t give her eye contact,

I even tried to sing a song,

To keep from answering wrong,

Normally I’m straightforward and bold,

But her eyes narrowed and her voice grew cold,

She asked once again, “Am I too fat?”

“Honey, if you think we both need to trim,

We could get a membership at the gym,”

At this point I should have just said no,

But I looked out the window,

For somewhere I could go,

“Uh, what was the question, dear?

I really couldn’t hear,”

Tears were dripping from her eyes,

She heaved a great sigh,

“Tell me why you won’t say”,

My answer didn’t take all day,

“Why, honey, I like you any way,

I think you’re crazy for asking that,

Of course you’re not fat,

I didn’t choose you for your hair,

Though I like it being there,

I love the heart you have within,

I’d love you thick or thin,

There’s nothing I can say or do,

To make this any less true,

I love you simply for being you,”

I think my answer was good for now,

But tomorrow she’ll question me somehow,

“Do these shoes go with this blouse?”

It will be time to leave the house,

“Would you like me better blond?”

I won’t know how to respond,

It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind,

And tomorrow I’ll look at her with dread,

Her hair might be blond, brown or red,

There might be someplace I can find,

Where I can leave dangerous questions behind.

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