Questionable Friendships

Questionable Friendships

I once knew a woman, I once
called her friend. A woman who
was a giraffe amongst us,
we neighbourhood housewives.
I remember her with mixed affection,
a top-drawers sort of girl
with a long, graceful neck,

standing tall and inordinately lean,
she moved like a long, lazy cloud
on a hot summer day. She said
she was a looker, and certainly
many people did, this friend who spent
an eternity floating wrinkles and sags
from her face with a palette knife,

deftly subtracting
year upon year plus a few
months from her age. She suffered
nothing, this friend. She would spurn
the tried and tired,
the fools and their foolishness,
this woman whose glance would sting your tongue

thick and useless. I certainly recall
her verbal volleys, balls that would fall
well beyond the baseline. I often wanted
to scream “FOUL”, but I didn’t. Should have though.
The ignorant aren’t blinded by bliss; they’re just
blindingly ignorant, she’d say, which annoyed
me in so many ways. She did have her
flaws though, this woman that I once

called my friend. She had the biggest,
Mother of All Orange Rind Buttocks
that I’d ever seen. And I made damned sure,
that all the neighbourhood housewives
knew about it, too — me with my
tongue always thick and nearing useless.


The Sunday Whirl #64: Prompt Words: Housewives, months, year, rind, sting, subtracting, eternity, balls, fall, drawers, spurn

Author: Misky

‘Misky’ lives in the UK surrounded by flowers, freshly baked bread, and always keeps dog biscuits in her pocket for her blind Springer Spaniel. She never buys clothing without pockets. Her work is widely published.

35 thoughts on “Questionable Friendships”

  1. was a giraffe amongst us,
    she moved like a long, lazy cloud
    floating wrinkles and sags
    from her face with a palette knife,

    what a wonderful portrait.

  2. You reminded me of a gal I once thought friend…I was good enough to help her once when she wasn’t able to clean her house, but not good enough to be invited to events at her place. She was a trip – often locked her hubby out of their house when miffed. Glad I wasn’t married to her and even happier when she moved.

    Thanks for your visit. True that women can only think they can mold men. True to the reverse :)

    1. My pleasure, Jules. By the way, the character in this poem is totally ficticious. I thought I should point that out so that none of my friends think they’re the subject of it!:)

  3. I am grinning from ear to ear. You pulled me right in with this narrative. The picture you painted was wonderful and I wouldn’t have recognized it for a wordle if I didn’t know. ….still chuckling about the orange rind butt.

    1. I was wondering if I shouldn’t have included the word dimpled with the orange rind but it seems that the point came across okay. 😉

  4. I love this poem portrait of this woman all the more now that I know she is totally fictitious. I am sure this poem felt good to write.

  5. Misky- I think you drew a sharp portrait of a woman we have all known! We keep the peace on the court with her and other social functions. We eye her in curiosity and amazement. We secretly hope to never act like her..

    Her orange rind butt leaves a lasting impression.

    Thanks for stopping by!.

  6. Oh it’s good to have time to read thru again. This is wonderful Misky. Evoked all sorts of feelings from the past. Had a “verbal volleyball” friend some years ago; greatest relief when I ended the friendship.

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