corrija a letra Letra Ode to the Women on Long Island por Olivia Gatwood

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I want to write a poem for the women on Long Island who smoke cigarettes in their SUVs with the windows rolled up before walking into yoga
Who hack and curse in downward dog
and Deborah
from the next block over who has strong opinions about Christmas lights after New Year’s
says that her body isn’t what it used to be
but neither is the economy or the bagels at Rickman’s Deli so who really cares
And during shavasana
she brings up the rabbi’s daughter who got an abortion last spring
and Candy in the corner calls Deborah hateful
and the cla** takes a sharp inhale in through the nose then out through the mouth
and after cla**
after Candy rushes home to check the lasagna
Deborah lights up a smoke and calls her friend Tammy

“So then the girl calls me ‘hateful’
hateful can you believe it
what a word
some kind of dictionary b*t*h over here
so ya know what I says? I says ‘you don’t know the first thing about hateful
ya wanna know what’s hateful?
menopause.’ ”

And it doesn’t really matter if Deborah actually said that to Candy
which she didn’t
because Tammy is so caught up that Candy called Deborah “hateful”
which she did
that next week when Tammy runs into Candy while shopping in Rockville Center
and Candy asks Tammy how she’s doing
Tammy will adjust the purse strap on her shoulder and say, “We all have a little coal in our stocking, Candy.”
And Candy will shuffle away
certain that Tammy knows something about her marriage that she shouldn’t and she doesn’t
she just loves Deborah
who has a lot of opinions
and had Candy given her the chance to finish her sentence
Deborah would have talked about the reproductive rights march she went to in the 60s
and the counterproductive sex-shaming methods of organized religion
I want to write a poem for the women on Long Island whose words stretch and curl like bubblegum around the forefinger
Who ask if I have a boyfriend
and before I answer say “Don’t do it
don’t ever do it
Y’know my friend Linda she’s a lesbian
like a real lesbian
and whenever I go over there
She lives on Corona over by Merrick by the laundromat y’know what I’m talking about
Whenever I go over there and see her and her wife
What’s her name?
I can never remember the girl’s name
Anyway
whenever I go over there I says, “Ya know what I need?”
I says, “A girlfriend - that’s what I need”

The women on Long Island let their teenage daughters throw parties in the basement while they watch the Home Network upstairs and keep the bat by the couch in case anyone gets roofied
even if it’s their own son who did the drugging

The women on Long Island won’t put it past any man to be guilty
even their kin
who after all have their husbands’ hands and blood
And last week when a girl was murdered while jogging in Queens
the women on Long Island were unstartled and furious
They did not call to warn their daughters
They called their sons
sat them at the kitchen table and said
“If you ever
and I mean ever so much as make a woman feel uncomfortable
I will take you to the deli and put your hand in the meat slicer
you think I won’t?
You hear me?
I will make a hero out of you
with mayonnaise and tomatoes and dill and onions”
I want to write a poem
for the women on Long Island who
when I show them the knife I carry in my purse
tell me it’s not big enough
Who are waitresses and realtors and ma**age therapists and social workers and housewives
and tell me they wish they would have been artists
‘but life comes fast ya know?
One minute you’re taking typing cla**es for your new secretary job in the World Trade Center and the next it’s almost over
Life, I mean
but I kicked and screamed my way through it and so will you
I can tell by the way you walk’
One more thing - when they call you a “b*t*h,” say, “Thank you, thank you very much.”

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