Thursdays

May 18, 2008

I was down in the Disney Wing a few months ago
to visit them all- Cindy, Ari, Beauty-
God, they all sounded so fucking whiny,
I was tempted to rip out a few well placed curls,
but the closest I came to losing it was when ol’ Whitey
decided to tell me for the millionth time
what it was like to be kissed awake by the
oh so flatulant and obviously gay windbag she had to marry
- not because he woke her from the spell, mind,
but because dwarves dont believe in condoms
and The Happily Ever After Crew down in
Management knew it would screw up the burgeoning franchise
if anything got around about a not so chaste princess.

But I managed to smile, knitting calmly while I did my good deed,
visiting with my stepsister and her shut in insulated
and not to be believed ( or believed in ) crew of monstrous princesses,
the ones who started to believe in their own press,
until the press morphed like a wicked stepmother’s spell into
pressure and instead of becoming like diamonds,
pressed from coal, they split or cracked and ended up here,
Where Management sneaks in doctors every Thursday
who prescribe and prescribe and prescribe
and screen every visitor-
even a lowly and wicked stepsister like me.

I used to plot rescue. If only for the sake of consternation
and the egg in the face of those Happily Ever After Bastards
I used to sit and plan dramatic rescues.
Cindy doesn’t want it- she would miss talking to the mice, she said
and she doesnt know how to do anything but clean houses
so why not stay where she is? The food is good and I bring flowers
most of the time, so what is freedom except hard work
and a harsh world that no longers believes in the old tales?

Ari agreed softly- she likes it when I bring new cds,
because she really CAN sing, mores the pity but so few people
appreciate a pure voice in the face of slick marketing and gimmicks…
I showed her an episode of American Idol and thought
she was going to have a stroke-I didnt hear her say a word for 3 months.

They all have different reasons,
I’ve heard them all, muted voices barely stirring the dust
of the summer afternoons- it’s why I come to visit,
to be blunt, because it’s always summer outside this room,
and winter is not my favorite time of year at all,
so I sit there as long as I can stand to listen to the bullshit reminiscing
without trying to stab them all with my knitting needles.

A harmless little old lady who was typecast as second best
but who escaped, never the less.