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She’s decided not to sleep with losers any more.
She’s had enough of comforting, restoring egos,
playing mother, stay-at-home wife, sister, best friend, money lender.
Pampered mistress is the role she wants now,
or trophy wife, lady on a pedestal.
She wants extravagance: nothing-is-too-good-for-you, no-expense-spared indulgence.
She’s going to throw out her casserole pans and cake tins.
She’s going to get rid of denim skirts and Birkenstocks.
She’s going to go on cruises, get manicures and facials,
wear designer gowns that cost way, way too much.
She’s going to stop giving and just take, take, take,
she says.
But kindness is stuck in her heart or in her DNA,
or maybe it’s just a Pavlovian response
to a needy look and a whispered “please.”
Anyway, before you know it, she’s opened her arms
and let the next poor guy stumble in.