if women

if women are so damn gentle
why does she get upset more than me?
I mean, i swept the porch,
she didn’t see,
only the lousy pile of debris
I left on the other side,
from sweeping the drive
sakes alive and Wah!
so it wasn’t put in a trash can, thirty lashes
we have four days before the trash guys arrive

she works hard and right
I commend her, she keeps all neat
runs her half of the ship tight
my list of good I do includes mud
not tracked in on my feet – how ‘bout that!
am I sweet, or what?

have to remind myself
she sees things her way, not mine,
cause astrologically speaking – we were born in
different places at different times,
must allow for different hearts,
different stops, different starts, different graces
we get things done at a different paces
boys versus girls in the human races
and so it goes

now, if I’m not hard enough
maybe it’s because I wake up early each day,
my skin gets too soft
from gentle morning sunshine
baby kissing my eyes,
she’d probably say the sun light in my eyes
goes in deep alright,
and has dried out my brain