The Brush Off
A less than amicable parting, he leaves her paints and easel
but takes her masterpieces, the slimy little weasel.
As he struggles with them while slipping out the door,
she shouts her rejoinder, “I always can make more,
whereas it is less likely that you, my dear, will ever
find another bread-winner so talented and clever!”
When he runs out of money and slinks back to disarm her,
all his “mea culpas” will do nothing but rearm her.
She will hear him coming in his rattletrap old van
that he always claimed was a sort of talisman
of those happy hippy days when he was such a charmer
that she was convinced he was her knight in shining armor.
But he has shattered her illusions ‘til there’s nothing left but rubble.
His bellbottoms are tattered and his goatee turned to stubble.
His dreadlocks fall from balding pate, his “Hey Man” is not cool.
He came into her life a god, but left it as a fool.
She’s given him the brush-off. No more is she his wife.
If he comes back he’ll only meet with her palette knife.
Prompt words today are amicable, weasel, talisman and Mea culpa.