I Will Call Her Diane
This lovely poem is written in honor of my friend.
I will call her Diane, a friend dear to my heart.
It is not her name, but I am retaining her anonymity.
After her husband had an affair, it tore her apart.
This poem is actually in honor of him, the lying, snaking,
thieving flim-flam-flimity.
If I knew his name I would say it, loud and tall.
Both names and his city, outing him nicely, and easily, with femininity.
I have no loyalty or love for him after all.
Slap her, kick her, pinch her, beat her.
Slap her, whack her, kill her, cheater.
Get out of her life, once and for all.
If we friends catch you, you will surely bawl.
You’ve done more than your share, you horrible rounder, you waste of space.
Of hurting a whole family. Your darling children are crying.
Your in-laws pick up the pieces that you have thrown out of place.
She will do much better now, without your cheating and lying.
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