You Push, I Push Back

image borrowed from bing

You Push I Push Back

The ex-priest spoke of women
in the third person
to their faces, took us on a tour of churches
of New York, where the squirrels are segregated
and rudeness is considered style.
He finished eating before we’d
even sat down. He was
an old teacher of my wife’s father
and adored the man.
When we walked in the door after a five
hour drive, he stood us in front
of the piano to sing; “Start again,” he’d say.
“I don’t see how you could like anyone
who doesn’t like me,” my mother in law said
to her husband, who lost the smile
he’d worn since we’d arrived.

C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on his site Murder Your Darlings