If her head were to light up like a candle,
it would be a blessed relief.
If her mouth would dry up like a well,
I could breathe again.
But it does not, and she will not disappear.
She talks on and on, a river without end.
A sea without shore.

This bony excuse for a woman
(no hair, no fat, and no apparent purpose)
will not go away no matter how hard I wish it.
She is oblivious to my hate,
and that makes her all the more annoying.
As she turns in my direction
I shut my eyes and try to disappear.

AcB 9.30.00