Tuesday, October 20, 2015
The Window Washer
I saw her outside washing windows
Then I knew that she couldn't be my ex,
As she was wearing old tattered clothes
And washing windows, my wife was always vexed.
She never did want to do any housework
Which included washing and cleaning, and cooking,
I guess her thoughts of being a wife was just a perk
Being a spouse was for her children, and the looking.
Though she always enjoyed to smoke and drink,
And also to tell a lie or two,
Past memories of her I try to remember, so I think;
Oh yes, other men she also enjoyed to screw.
But, my friends swore to me that it was my ex-wife
Who just moved a couple blocks away from my house,
I was hoping that forever she was out of my life
Maybe my hatred again she is trying to rouse.
But, then I am looking at this woman from her backside
So, I cannot see her and then formulate a face,
Was this the same woman that was once my bride
If she’d turned around would I see sin, sadness and disgrace.
Though this woman that I see has a much larger ass,
And my ex was a brunette, this woman is a blond,
My ex was also thin and also once was a Bonnie lass,
To which at one time her soul and mine did bond.
Maybe it being her is just a rumor and a neighborhood myth
As I now see a stranger coming out of her front door,
He wasn't one of the men that my ex had cheated on me with
So, she couldn't be my ex, the woman that we all called whore.
Now she has finished washing her windows
Then up my skin I suddenly feel an intense burr,
Caused by shock and sadness and memories I suppose
Sadly, I noticed then that window washer and my ex are her.
Randy L. McClave
Topic(s) of this poem: divorce,wife