regarding mrs robinson

mrs. robinson was jaded.
she decided she couldn’t take it anymore
so mrs. robinson jumped. she landed on
the bottom floor, standing straight up.

mrs. robinson was dreaming.
she walked around the garden in a square pattern,
said that the boy didn’t even matter,
so mrs. robinson dreamed of an ever after,
where only she would lie. where only
the men would die.

mrs. robinson was tired
of the house that she built with gloved hands.
of the dining room she hosted. the
bedroom she romanced. the
living room where she toasted
the wedding of her daughter to the other boy.
so mrs. robinson filled the tub with water
and sat in it saying she would stay there
for the rest of her days.

yet to mrs. robinson’s dismay,
the water ran out through the crack
under her leg. she exhaled one last time
then hid the white tub away in the closet
with the bones and the grandfather
clock chimed twice three times.

mrs. robinson watched the sun drop
in a boysenberry sky.

mrs. robinson was jaded.
broken down and worn. her
dress was dirty and torn. her
pearls chipped and dull.

so mrs. robinson decided to dull
her senses with the magic wine,
the one they hid so the children wouldn’t find,
the secret elixir that keeps her awake.
with a shake of her purse she shook
out a cigarette to smoke away all her regrets,
she took out her tortoise barrette,

and removed her pointed stiletto shoes. oh
mrs. robinson who knew you were so sorrowed,
perhaps i’ve some happiness you can borrow.

mrs. robinson closed her eyes
and sat in the middle of the kitchen floor.
she laid her body flat and kept her jaw slacked.

mrs. robinson thought she was chasing her blues out,
when she was really just inviting them back.