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Once again I tip the scale
And mutter, whoever invented it was a man from hell.
It was not a woman who created weights for size
For women can look past the outer shell
And search deep for what is inside.
Men must have their cake and eat it too…
From head to toe-perfection-from hat to shoe
I dress in all white for today I must teach Sunday school
If only a man’s heart would find my food
I can shake and bake
If only on my plate would a handsome man chance to take.

The preacher gets up on the pulpit and puts on his show
Talks about the place where adulterers must go
None of us admit he is a hypocrite as we all know
For he has slept with every woman in the front row.
But, even still my pig’s feet goes from hot to cold
No matter how many ties for him I’ve sewn.
Some women have all the luck
Others like me can’t even get a look-let alone a touch
Being me, ah yes, it is too much.

Sister “Gossip” waves her fan as I go past
“Speak out loud?” would be too much to ask.
I wonder if it is my skirt that is too tight
Or whether I will be at home alone again tonight
I wonder if whatever she says about me is worth a fight
Or is it even true and right.
I pray for her soul with all my might,
I can’t let the Devil move into my mind.

People tell me I sing like a bird
Its gospel time, time to praise the Lord with words
I walk on stage to take my turn
Hands sway from side to side and my throat burns…
But the men stare at the teenager in the short skirt
And the first lady with the red dress
My curves ripple my stomach
For I am not that blessed
I have what a man wants to hear
But to lye beside me is what they all fear.

The service offered nothing by way of encouragement.
But, I have worshiped God
Even if the day was not heaven sent
I know somehow it must be time well spent.
I kiss the little children good-bye
And pretend all is joyous on the inside.
Satin-Legs Smith walks pass the church and sighs
We all know what is on his mind
Therefore though I dream of marriage he doesn’t give me the time.
He looks at me winks and a little smile.
He would only laugh if I asked him to come eat with me
For a little while.

I hang my coat in the closet
Beside a dusty wedding dress
I was wishful thinking when I bought it.
It is four sizes to small
I had planned to shrink into it by last fall.
But, too much time passed and I can’t even return it to the mall.
I can’t bring myself to put it in the trash down the hall.
I may use it for curtains or to cover the dirt stains on my front wall.

I lay myself down to sleep
And pray to the Lord my soul to keep.
And that I do not die before love I see
It is enough to at least give me hopeful dreams.

Monday comes and I have to go off to clean
For rich white people who don’t need anything.
Except for J. Alfred Prufrock
He lives on top 
Of the food chain
But he too is looking for love
We’re both the same.
He always looks at me like he has something to say
But he can’t get past his bald spot or the creases on his face.
Again I wonder should I do the flirting dance
Let him know I am available and that I can
And I will, so he will take a chance
I know he would be willing to love me still
I am not settling for second best!
He is a man!
I am a woman!
Shouldn’t we make love manifest?

I think I will give it a go
And see if I could be someone he would come to know
A fine meal some sweet potatoes and a roast
A pan of peach cobbler, such things men love the most.
I will make his house squeaky clean
Show him what he could expect if he married me.
I drive up and he is at his window
Watching his neighbors come and go
Eavesdropping on their conversations
About Michaelangelo.
And he is reading a book, Dante’s “Inferno”

“Is this for me?” when he sees the plate of food.
I nod yes and hope it gets him in the mood
He smiles, blushes and turns red.
All sorts of happy thoughts run through my head.
But still he only eats and does not speak
It seems the asking will be up to me. 
But what do I say for I do not wish to be
Considered by him, a hussy.
I ask him if he likes the movies.
He tells me he prefers plays
“I have never been to one” I say.
“Maybe I shall take you to one someday.”	
“And I will make you a German Chocolate cake.”
“I guess then it is a date.”

How should I wear my hair?  Should I sport an afro?
Or get a perm?  This is the time to use all those make up tips that I learned.
It seems I will feel the joy of being an Eve.
The birds are singing just for me.
The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming.

Will they be putting Prufrock on my tomb stone
If I do this right I won’t die alone…
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