Darling, Delightful, Dubious, Delectable Despicable Day

The darling, delightfully, dubious, delectable despicable day No one thought to warn me; no one noticed maybe, never mind It was an extra special, extraneously exciting, and exacting day. I did not even notice at first, deliberating about dungarees, I was exasperatingly naïve about anything except my wardrobe. Unaware of what was whispering in winter, wishing mine had pockets. So when the bodies bounced in, and the babies begin burping, And the men marched madly, at first, I frankly did not notice. But when I finally got dressed, in my extra special dungarees There they were – the lonely, lithe, lively, luxurious long fellows, Picketing, pirouetting, posing, and pinching, everyone notoriously Not being socialized, seriously sassy. A despicable day in suburbia. There is one we have not recruited yet, the small minded ones cried. They chased me for hours, trying to get me to bend to their madness, But although I had not been warned, I was fast, even in hard blue jeans. My choice wise that delectable despicable, dubiously dangerous day. For had they caught me and turned me, I would not be writing poetry. I would not be throwing paint onto a canvas and laughing maniacally. I would not be able to live my truth, and stick out my tongue at the masses. But they did not, and so I can.