The Other Cheek
She cursed me so politely
That I dare not accuse her of kindness
It would be insulting to the Queen of Shade
She’s casting shadows and tossing buses
Under overpasses I’m busking
I’ll take some bittersweet tea
With my seven grains of salt crackers
I would shoot my response
But my aim is off
And I taught to protect my stained glass house
She’s left bruises on my window pain
And her verbal barrage has left me a holey saint
For this I thank her,
I’ve been baptized by cheap gasoline—-
A new bloodied martyr
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