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The Hollywood Fable That Ruined Me

Dorothy lied, the pig-tailed bitch.
Corrupted my little girl mind with hope
as I whittled a future out of wishes and want
of ruby red slippers. Should have trusted the witch
who was as ugly as life and more real
than Dorothy, who clicked heels
and had me believing in home.

           There's no place
                   no place
                              no

place for nests made of talcum and coos
in the eye of a twister. No place for
perfect pot roast and fresh squeezed
lemonade when a house is upside down,
when the people cannot chew because
their mouths are filled with anguish.

            Like home
                     home

with a click and those sparkly shroom stars,
my young psyche was marred. She got there -
groggy but missed. Loved. Those she left
for her selfish trip over rainbows patted her
head and stayed.

            There's no place like home
                There's no place like
                           There's no
                                  There's

something to be learned here, like
sometimes home means fathers dying
during sitcoms and mothers withering away,
burned pot roast and nests falling apart,
a little more every day. Just like me.
Thank you, Dorothy. (lying pig-tailed bitch)

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