The Bow Leg-Ged Girl

THE BOW LEG-GED GIRL I took all of your tank tops and your hose and your sox, and I put them all together in a little brown box. I put all of your dresses and your shoes in a sack, and I wrapped it up because I knew you're never coming back. I took your funky records and your Gaygirl Magazines and dropped them in the trash with all your green and purple jeans. I took the clothes I bundled up and gave them away, to the Salvation Army, it seems like yesterday. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. I met a wino on the street, she looks just like you, she wears a see through blouse and she walks bow legged, too. She sings those funky songs and plays the guitar outa sight, and she takes a bath in cheap perfume like you did every night. She sings about Viet Nam and love we don't show, No one's told her Viet Nam was fifty years ago. She's out protesting every day and carries a big sign, and bites her toenails every night just like you did mine. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. She has a job but all she'll say, it ain't chopping wood. And it's funny how her money lasts, and she lives so good. She bought a brand new car one day, a pink Cadillac, and it's got a bar up in front and mattress in the back. I don't know why she thinks she has to work every day, cause I never had a job I just live on my welfare pay. She picks her nose and rolls each bugger in a sugar ball, and just like you used to do, then she eats them all. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. I married her in the park, it seems like yesterday, and I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't run away. She brought her uncle home with her from work the other night, and her uncle and my cousin all got drunk and had a fight. She got locked in the bedroom with the meter readers dad, and they had a lot of fun all night, but I felt awful bad. He took her home with him a while, but she wouldn't stay, I wish you'd come back home to me, and run her away. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. © ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet