WON’T YOU GIVE UP THIS POEM TO SOMEONE WHO NEEDS IT?

Remember what I told you about purgatory?

Limbo? How all that’s happening now is just

this waiting around till the big cheese makes up

her mind about you? She makes you the way

you are and then decides if it panned out; for

every ten half-baked cookies there’s a gem

&, you know, just maybe you’re one of those.

Then there’s those take her name in vain—

whaddya call them?—the religious moralists;

she don’t much cotton to them, not when

they try to take away a woman’s right to choose

or bad-mouth folks almost as queer as she is.

Well, everyone makes mistakes. That’s what

purgatory’s for. Sometimes it happens that

while you wait you see what’s what—start

accepting you’re in a long queue for God

only knows what. And neither of you has

any idea what the hell the matter is or what

to do about it.