She Is Only Mean Poem by Randy McClave

I thought at first that she was a sailor
By the way that she drank and cursed,
Then I though that she was a satiric poet
By the way that her cussing was elegantly versed.
But, of course she was neither one
As I began to study and think,
She isn't either a sailor or a poet
As I listened to her cuss and watch her drink.
Before every other word that she spoke
I had to place a finger into my ear,
That word undoubtedly would be blasphemous
And it, I didn't want to hear.
She just enjoyed to drink and to curse
With one word and drink after another,
She would always began with someone's son
Then would always end with another one's mother.
I tried to understand her drinking
Or to pinpoint where it all had began at,
But, the only thing that I could figured out
She was once a navy brat.
Her mother she never cursed
And her father didn't pass her that drinking gene,
So, after I put one and one together
She drinks and curses, because she is mean.

Randy L. McClave