hen I met Groucho at some swank affair
he did not have eyes or ears of time for me
he was all over someone else’s massive chest
and never even noticed
the chatterbox who stood thinly next.
I am the mute flapper girl who walked away
who he did not engage
but saved his best lines and his best eyebrows
for Margaret Dumont and her shocked face.
I am bitter, yes I am.
Too long passed over and repressed
and when chosen by some delicious boy
he keeps his best flavours to himself.
I look but I don’t see that cleverness
that funny funny you’re killing me!
I laugh – it’s all I want to do and screw, that too
and trim your tickly moustache, Groucho,
and live merrily with you.
am impatient, and online dating frustrates me. I think I will never be loved. I am a vintage car sputtering along on fumes.
Coming to believe that my romantic fate is not in my hands is hard work. My core belief is that a relationship with a man is the solution to Sandy. This conviction cripples me. The rest of my life does not fall merrily into place. All my actions, all my desires, stem from this false faith.
My mother tried, still tries, to dissuade me from this romantic notion. But I think now it was her meagre love and attention which planted it in the first place. My father’s attentions were absent; they were present for my sisters but he paid no attention to me. And so, in me, a restless, searching hunger was triggered.
I envy brilliant women who attract brilliant men who support and adore them. I have always been a settler and a supporter. No man ever adored me, except for the few precious months when these poems flew from my pen.
My heart tingles as I write this; and sadness swells behind my eyes. My nose stings from suppressed tears. How these things connect confuses me.
I am still me. God is still God. And yet the poetry is waning.
* * * * *
Sandy Day is a recovering chatterbox living in Toronto, Ontario Canada. She graduated from Glendon College, York University, with a degree in English Literature sometime in the last century. Sandy took 20 years off from writing poetry to run a gift store and raise a family. Now happily unmarried and unemployed she finally has time to write. Sandy earns money for her cheese sandwiches by selling dog halters, managing social media marketing for several entrepreneurs, and editing whatever she can get her hands on. She lives with her darling son, two cats, and a scruffy Jane Russell Terrier. “Groucho” was first published in Sandy’s book, Chatterbox Poems, which was published in August 2011. Chatterbox Poems is available on Amazon.
Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.