You Don't Want to Know!

If you would, in your manners, be right,
and, conversing, bring only delight,
you'll not ask for the truth
(a blunder uncouth),
which just forces a fib or a fight!

So...

• Don't ask a waiter what's in a sauce.
• Don't ask your doctor how long you've got.
• Don't ask your divorce lawyer whether you're in the right.
• Don't ask your teen-age daughter whether she's had sex.
• Don't ask your teen-age son...anything.
• Don't ask your father about the war, his love life, or global warming.
• Don't ask your mother if she loves you more than she loves your brother.
• Don't ask your dog whether he's been rolling in shit.
• Don't ask your cat where he's stashed his latest kill.
• Don't ask anyone what they think of bankers, the economic recovery initiatives, or the health care system.
• Don't ask a long-time friend whether you've gotten old.
• Don't ask your spouse whether anything you do is irritating.

...and so on.

I admire the way you've used tact
to forge a societal pact:
as big fibs and small lies
are life's pleasing disguise,
you all happily take them for fact.

Coughin' Nails

...
They used to smoke in their cars,
rolling the windows down and letting their red nails
hang out, little stoplights:
Stop now, before the green
comes to cover up your tall brown bodies.

(from My Aunts by Meghan O'Rourke)

---

Well, we know you're our niece and all, Mag:
we indulge you your rant on the rag.
But the next time you mus'
primly criticize us,
just think twice, and then light up a fag...

The dark side of excellence

"...Carla had a gift that had brought her pain simply because it was not a bigger gift..."—Kathryn Chetkovich in Appetites

When first you perceive you've a gift,
it gives you a wonderful lift.
But then comes the joker:
you're still mediocre,
so you know that you've really been stiffed.

Smile, it's all hopeless ...

There once was just nothing but One
(no stars, no bananas, no Sun)
whose multiplication
became all Creation,
since Many is so much more fun.