Mothers Rant, Saviors Save

Your kid is a jerk.
He called my kid retarded again,
He made fun of his feet again,
She probably said something about his teeth again,
Your kid, with the perfectly proportioned tendons,
The synthetically straight teeth,
The nominal sense of normal coming out your
Doesn’t get that it’d be more fun hanging out with retarded kids,
Far More genuine
Than trying to be like you and
Is that again?

When the mama claws retract,
I tell him that it’s always their loss,
The deep seeded resentment, insecurities, fears propelling them forward the same uncertain future.
I tell him that’s just people.
I tell him about “California” and her
Rudeness in adulthood, the looks I still get, the words behind backs.

I can’t tell him people improve,
But I tell him,
You will.
Your wit and your humor and your height
Will all catch up with you,
On the other side of middle school.

And they get theirs.
They get all the grace and mercy and love
They don’t deserve, too.


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