This Ain’t My Idea of Love

A Poem

Photo by pawel szvmanski on Unsplash

Mama taught me young
how to flutter my pretty lashes
and how to catch a man
who’d do the right thing
by loving me tender all his life

But when I asked about Daddy,
she’d shake her head
and sigh, just sigh,
like it was too long ago
even to remember

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that,”
she would tell me,
and I’d go on brushing
Malibu Barbie’s golden hair,
all the while dreaming to be her

Mama taught me not to cry
and I’d follow her lead
because she knew better,
or so I thought,
at least until I grew up

When the first boy came
and broke my heart,
Mama told me I’d done wrong
because he probably thought
I wasn’t a good girl

“You’re not a cheap floozy,”
she’d tell me —
and I’d try not to cry,
just like she taught me,
but eventually I gave up