smokes a pack a day.
Hides in her car at lunch
puffing shame fags alone –
Hangover Betty – she is a sorry case.
Too bad to deserve a pregnancy –
God recognizes this type – this type with
veined and reddened face.
Pathetic fat Betty;
at thirty five it’s almost over;
at thirty six her liver’s blown;
at forty two cirrhosis comes.
Then emphysema… all done.
Wouldn’t you be drinking, and that much too?
Knowing what was coming – what was in store for you?
Oh, it’s so sad.
Oh, what a wasted life.
Could’ve been so many things
Horseback prodigy at twelve.
More recently, on her back
below a stranger’s balls
How does one type up a rich man’s
will with shaking hands and runny eyes –
How does one sit through law firm lunch
knowing one might vomit
upon the lap of senior partner
Then – exact it all again come drinking time at 5 pm.
This smacks of pain in cycles
Alcoholic paralegal knows her time
is nigh – to decide to live or rot in hell,
and if she lives, the rottenness of her
Former life will feel a lot like hell on
earth. What would you choose…
survival or more easily to die – just ask
Drunk slut Betty.
Life of the party, funny Betty.
Your sister and your
Your wife and friend and mother Betty.
Just ask me –