I can’t believe how much grief I’m getting over this poem. It’s like a guy can’t have a Marshall Mathers moment anymore. I love women. Blondes too. There are lots of love poems on this site directed at women. This poem is about SO much more than freaking gender issues, for crying out loud.
You were imported so that Los Angeles would have a supply of blondes
To offer on a meat platter to hell’s newest contractees
To ensure any given frog ferrying scorpions across ponds
Would stay cuckolded and bowed upon his knees
I see both the forest and the trees
You can’t stand the sound of my voice now
I watch you squirm and hate and complain
Every time I open my mouth, every time I sit down
You roll your eyes with distain
You’re afraid you’re below average
Always looking for leverage
But this lonely lost litter’s runt
Is just so tired of the stench of your black widow cunt
It’s impossible to find something pleasant in the package
I’m done with this carnival of attack and distraction
I’ve been here three months, and now is time for action
I look to old friends I’ve never met
For solace, and footing, and traction
I have no capacity to formulate a comment.