Plastic Sofa

Prose/Poem (audio)

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Those were the days of our lives...
Everything - we and the kitchen sink
along with the sofa -- were protected
Mama would make a big stink
if otherwise.

She put her hand-sewn cozies on ... you name it.
She always looked out for us.
Remember she'd walk us to the bus,
even within sight of the crossing guard,
watched us like a hawk in the backyard ...

Problem was ...
she also protected father,
even after he would scold
her for the stew
being too hot and too cold.

So cold he was to her,
cold as the plastic to our thighs
on the sofa,
where he'd unwind with the paper
and knock the wind out of her like flies.

After working the beat
giving the criminal deadbeats
the third degree,
he would often beat and give Mama
the same agony.

Despite the scarring burns, she saved face,
covered herself with an amazing foundation
that I wouldn't dare put on.
Mama maintained grace-
but why for him?