Sympathy For Spastics - Parenthetical Girls

Bred and wed of ruddy wretched men

I’ve bet you’ve got it in for them

Their crass, sun-tanned, uneducated hands

You’ve always found a place for them

This greedy grace that permeates girls my age

When I’m not ashamed to say, even

On our knees, it’s the sad simple dignities

That charm the pants off me

Blue blood, well hung, and just a touch too young

For all the gifts God’s blessed me with, she’s

Thick as shit, pregnant with the myth

Of a noble proletariat

As you take to task

This great guiltless gilded class

Well please don’t make me laugh, bless these

Men of means whose key bumps of ketamine

Still sweep you off your feet

As we have been so we will always be

And I gather what you think of me, so I

Won’t defend nor condescend

Just know you’ve got my sympathy