I'm Not Your Mother's Friend Poem by Renee Marie

"It's an abomination and you
haven't even known her long enough to say
I love you"!

I won't tell her about the way I fall in love
over and over a cup of tea
or our peanut butter
and jelly picnics.

I won't tell her about the bottles
of Turning Leaf Chardonnay, our
wine glasses wobbling silly
at the grassy edge
of scenic overlooks
near West Point where we giggled
at my first salute as our tipsey eyes
chased dragonflies

I won't tell her of our giving-in and curling-up
and feeling twenty-four
instead of forty-two.

I won't tell her about sparklers on the deck
With Autumn moon nectar trickling
Down our chilly throats or how she
likes cool lips
these cool lips
just after feeling breathless at the touch
of feathers ‘cross her mocha belly.

No, I won't tell her how much I desire
her Mother
in countless simple ways, 'cause I'd
say it all wrong,
tripping all over my love-sick self
in the presence of her calculated criticism
and perhaps reduce my expanse of joy
to an endless defensive discourse which a
fearful Daughter needs so much
to win.