Annette, a successful self-employed graphic designer
with a great body and a gorgeous face, was a tireless
worker but she still found time to be a loving wife.
And I loved the way she sounded when she sang
“Landslide” in the morning, just like Stevie Nicks.
But one of her beautiful green eyes sometimes—not
always but sometimes—wandered. It was a lazy eye,
sometimes, a flaw I couldn't overlook, so I left her.
Dawn, a hotel manager with a decent enough face,
worked long hours to earn her salary, and, most
importantly, her blue eyes were perfectly straight.
But she wore a few extra pounds in her stomach and
in the rear, and in the morning her hair was frizzy,
flaws I couldn't live with, so I left Dawn, wife two.
Wendy, a part-time waitress, was intelligent and thin
with perfectly straight brown eyes and she rolled out
of bed in the morning with perfectly straight blond hair.
But she had a mole the size of a pencil eraser above her
tailbone and she often missed work, sick from hangover.
What man would stay with her? I left Wendy, wife three.
Neva, who lived off the child support her four kids' four
dads paid, was bony and her eyes and hair were straight
and she had no moles I could see and she didn't drink.
But she cussed in front of her unruly kids and left them
alone so she could spend the child support money their
dads sent on clothes for herself while the kids wore rags.
I rehearsed my “I'm leaving” speech for Neva, wife four,
and I would have given my soul to hear Annette sound
the way the did when she sang “Landslide” in the morning,
Just like Stevie Nicks.
with a great body and a gorgeous face, was a tireless
worker but she still found time to be a loving wife.
And I loved the way she sounded when she sang
“Landslide” in the morning, just like Stevie Nicks.
But one of her beautiful green eyes sometimes—not
always but sometimes—wandered. It was a lazy eye,
sometimes, a flaw I couldn't overlook, so I left her.
Dawn, a hotel manager with a decent enough face,
worked long hours to earn her salary, and, most
importantly, her blue eyes were perfectly straight.
But she wore a few extra pounds in her stomach and
in the rear, and in the morning her hair was frizzy,
flaws I couldn't live with, so I left Dawn, wife two.
Wendy, a part-time waitress, was intelligent and thin
with perfectly straight brown eyes and she rolled out
of bed in the morning with perfectly straight blond hair.
But she had a mole the size of a pencil eraser above her
tailbone and she often missed work, sick from hangover.
What man would stay with her? I left Wendy, wife three.
Neva, who lived off the child support her four kids' four
dads paid, was bony and her eyes and hair were straight
and she had no moles I could see and she didn't drink.
But she cussed in front of her unruly kids and left them
alone so she could spend the child support money their
dads sent on clothes for herself while the kids wore rags.
I rehearsed my “I'm leaving” speech for Neva, wife four,
and I would have given my soul to hear Annette sound
the way the did when she sang “Landslide” in the morning,
Just like Stevie Nicks.