The Advantage Of Being Grape Juice Poem by Anarda Nashai

when you swallowed his warm words

(to both you and me, vibrations of indubitable masculinity)

and drew them in with a promise to GOD:

'If you were to let me have him, oh Father

to count the grey spurs on my eighty-year-old temples

i would (blah, blah, blah) ...

in Jesus name

Amen! '

when you lost yourself in his starlit courtship

and the gentleness of his hand

crusing the vunerability of your hot-flashing skin

when his ora turned your child-like afternoons

into hard, naughty dusks

you were happier

counting your new silvers dollars

from those now worthless quarters

(they were worthless, aye?)

and your search was over....



when he spoke of me

(and i'm sure he did)

he must have 'mistaken satin from silk' he said

he told you that in me

he had discovered how tight catepillars

gave him a grave distaste for grape juice

and had insisted that your silken existence

had him parched for thick, red wine

when he had you gussy up your face

with post-adolescent pinks

and come down to his town fairs

across his wide bayou by ferry

when he stole your knee-length dresses

and had you mock a downed,

high-split wearing co-ed from Uni-V

when i saw you skipping merrily to the play yard

from your favored boardroom

i opened my opinion

stretched it's clumpiness into curiosity

and poured expediciously

...but quietly...



maybe i shouldn't have been...so satisfied

with your cheery passings...

to see your face a brand new shade of joy

and maybe i should have listened up and loosed his wine

so that your pillow wouldn't be stained

with those tastes he leaves behind

for through you it is proven

that loosened autumn leaves

blow whiskfully around and around by nature's cruelty

until a pausing summer breeze interrupts

to end the appropriate violence

and though you are a most splendid leaf-

the unjust laws of nature intrudes without mercy

and stays forever unchanged

no matter how much you cry

or are hurt by it all

nevertheless it was forced onto you

by your mother and mine:

'FALLING IN LOVE is way too easy to do...

i'll bet a million bucks that even now

you'll either accept or reject

these two cents on this sincere page

and won't really weigh in my meaning

yep...you'll bite the dust with the rest

my dear, I SHOULD HAVE WARNED YOU

when he moaned his first hello...

but i'm merely fresh grape juice:

too sweet and immature

to be the deliverer of bad news.



-Anarda Nashai

author of School Girl

Check out my website at:

www.anardanashai.webs.com