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Francine Fitzpatrick

of

San Jose, CA, US

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Untitled

by

Francine Fitzpatrick

Clearly I can see my babe loves me
Providing my dinner and laundry
Itís a winner to have, I grow thinner to act
Like I love her but then she done haunt me
I always look to protect her, but she act like instead I reject her
So she always deflects every effort Iíve set
And she vets when I mention surrogate
Itís crazy
How can she see so hazy
And grate me saying she wants her baby
Lady
Didnít you think just maybe youíd die
Leaving me wondering why
My baby, took our kid to heaven and left me
Lonely, in my own home with no one to love me
Habeas Corpus, she says so easily
Easy for her, when sheís just a memory
Then I lose everything, when just a finderís fee
Drives all this risk from me.
She says Iím blowing the clarion
My baby, sheís not Bavarian
Sheís so little sheíll rip, or go cracking her hip
Or leave scarring from a cesarean
But she thinks that sheís omnipotent
Thatís fine. Till the first tourniquet
Or they sew up the vent, Sheís a month in the mend
I canít bend, gotta win this argument.
Have her see the view that I am in
And have her put her trust in Mormons
Itís frustrating annihilating views that drive her pregnant
Establishment of rationale news donít change her mind set
Arguments that used to make sense are now repugnant
Now I want to say something too, not for an instant
Can we say recalcitrant?
Rushing to our judgements
Please admit a Mormon rentalís better than your oven
Itís little.
Hate to belittle
Youíre little scuttle
Hate to befuddle
You till youíre bitter
Hate to just diddle
On this discussion
But I have to make
A lasting impression
And have you enjoined
In my apprehension
And finally ask sincerely
Drop the pregnancy, baby, donít you like me?