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Always Unsuitable

 She wore little teeth of pearls around her neck.
They were grinning politely and evenly at me.
Unsuitable they smirked.
It is true I look a stuffed turkey in a suit.
Breasts too big for the silhouette.
She knew at once that we had sex, lots of it as if I had strolled into her diningroom in a dirty negligee smelling gamy smelling fishy and sporting a strawberry on my neck.
I could never charm the mothers, although the fathers ogled me.
I was exactly what mothers had warned their sons against.
I was quicksand I was trouble in the afternoon.
I was the alley cat you don't bring home.
I was the dirty book you don't leave out for your mother to see.
I was the center- fold you masturbate with then discard.
Where I came from, the nights I had wandered and survived, scared them, and where I would go they never imagined.
Ah, what you wanted for your sons were little ladies hatched from the eggs of pearls like pink and silver lizards cool, well behaved and impervious to desire and weather alike.
Mostly that's who they married and left.
Oh, mamas, I would have been your friend.
I would have cooked for you and held you.
I might have rattled the windows of your sorry marriages, but I would have loved you better than you know how to love yourselves, bitter sisters.

Poem by Marge Piercy
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