The Tale Between Her Legs

[couchgrouch]

The Tale Between Her LegsMary crossed the border with her mamaher dad was just some drunk tourist in Tijuanathe LA barrio closed around them like a clampbut Mary's mama wouldn't go back to being a trampand sticking to your guns sometimes leaves you stucksometimes you gotta buck the system to make a few bucksbut her mother cursed the dirty blood inside herwhen Mary earned the rent in a blue low-riderand the tale between her legswas the saddest of storiesshe always tried, to keep her prideand say she wasn't sorrysome people stealsome people begbut it's no use, no one listened tothe tale between her legslaying roots in a foreign land can be hardbut hundred dollar bills are the best green cardsit's a tough walk of life walking the streetsmidnight corner drop-offs, rinse and then repeatMary's eyes stare at the roofs of Chevy vansso she only connects with the money in their handswas she so diff'rent from suburban wiveswho sleep through sleeping with their men for Gucci livesbut the tale between her legswas the saddest of storiesshe always tried, to keep her prideand say she wasn't sorrysome people stealsome people begbut it's no use, no one listened tothe tale between her legsMary tells the mirror she don't blame her motherbut her reflection knows empty hearts breed othersso morning sickness just melts her into tearswhat will her child do on the day it hearsthe tale between her legswas the saddest of storiesshe always tried, to keep her prideand say she wasn't sorrysome people stealsome people begbut it's no use, no one listened tothe tale between her legs(c)2004 Robert George