The Italian Shower Curtain - Poem by Patti Masterman
I got a great deal once on a purchase I found,
At that great virtual auction house that lives on the web.
It was a large sheet of cloth about six foot nine;
They shipped it to me and I was unhappy to find
That it was stained and burned and dirty enough-
I thought of sending it back, the finish was so rough.
I decided that anyway I'd make it into a curtain,
My shower kept puddling; that much was certain.
I cut off the bottom; it was much too long
And hemmed it and hung it up there, for a song.
My friends thought it looked familiar; but couldn't recall
Where it was they'd seen such a pattern-
All dusty and covered with what- blood spatter?
Like a crime scene outline, it seemed to have a past;
I sprayed it with acrylic to make sure it would last.
Started getting funny phone calls almost from day one-
How did everyone know where my shower curtain came from?
From Turin, someone told me, and I felt so relieved,
That it didn't cost more, as they had priced it like a sheet.
And then the whole world started wanting to buy it;
Museums and churches all wanted my steal.
Callers began to inquire, is it real?
I told one lady that, with spray gloss it got slick:
With spray gloss? She shouted, just before I heard the click;
I'll get back to you, she had said, sounding horrified,
And I began to wonder, how this cloth got so glorified-
The pope's coming Friday and wants to stay with me
I'm flabberghasted- not even Catholic, you see?
This purchase has certainly upset my calm days,
And the thing glows at night and gives off all these rays-
It must have been dropped here by some alien spacecraft,
And to get so nutty over a shower curtain's just daft.
Maybe I'll sell it and retire rich to Tahiti
I hear that the weather and sea there are pretty.
I think to the highest bidder, I'll gift that white elephant
And buy myself a shower curtain, much more elegant.
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