Was that really my mother?
Was that really my mother who called at 7 a.m.,
And said that, since Michelle's sister is in town,
She'd really like to have us all over for Sunday dinner,
Because after all, Michelle's sister is family too,
And they've never even met?
Was that really my mother, who when last we visited
Called Michelle her daughter,
Who late last summer introduced Michelle to the moving-man
As her daughter-in-law?
Was that really my mother,
The same mother who was appalled at the Pride parade,
Who once said I wasn't really a lesbian,
Who made horrified faces when I rubbed a friend's shoulders in public
(A friend I wasn't even dating)?
Was that really my mother,
Who until recently would call
To tell me that some movie has an actor in it,
That's just so utterly, masculine-ly sexy,
That I'd love to sleep with him,
If I'd just go see the movie again with her?
Was that really my mother,
Who could never accept, and for the last six months or so,
Suddenly has?
Was that really my mother,
Who called on the telephone,
To invite my sister-in-law to Sunday dinner,
Because Michelle's sister is her family too, after all?
It was!
Saturday, Nov 11, 2000 07:13:08
Return to the Library.
Return to the Front Door.
E-mail me at Weavre@graffiti.net