Saturday, May 29, 2010

It's Raining Men


I just can't figure it out.
Sometimes there's a man drought
and sometimes it just rains big fat
man splashes like manna from heaven.
Can't someone regulate the flow?


Most of the ones raining down alas 
aren't quick enough to keep up,
can't answer questions like what do you do
for fun and what movies make you laugh
so hard you choke or are you a broccoli man?

"Print by Unknown Artistin Poulsbo Shop Window" - photo © 2009 Meri Arnett-Kremian

So I don't even bother to ask questions
like how to solve the crisis in
the middle east or how to extricate
ourselves from Afghanistan without appearing
weak, because God knows the good old
U.S. of A. can't afford to look weak

or pee a shorter distance than the other guy
and if they can't even tell me that they
laugh themselves into unconsciousness
over Major League every time they see it,
(but detest the sequels in a major way),
well, I know they have a weak little stream.

Most of the guys raining down, it seems,
find bliss in things that make me want
to set my hair on fire or gouge out my eyes.
They carry tents on their backs or wheel around 
a little house on axles and venture off
into some wilderness where they'd expect

me to cook and do dishes while they belch
and fart and do mannish things like shooting
teal-headed mallards right out of the air in front
of dowdy feral wives without noticing that teal shade
shift to jade or that mallards wear wedding rings
 around their necks because they have no hands.

"Upside Down Umbrellas" © 2009 Meri Arnett-Kremian

I know they say that love is blind, but please. . .
Don't make me go there. I'd rather eat sprouts.

Isn't there a man out there looking for good-ole-me,
a woman who loves football and old time rock'n'roll,
a man won't laugh when a major chick flick moment
touches my heart and makes me cry ugly?

Apparently not. At least he's not close enough
to ping  my radar.  But I keep waiting. . .
umbrella up. Defenses down .
Well, sort of, anyway. But lookin' through the scope,
checking the cross hairs,  at least one eye open,
waiting to bring that trophy home.

5 comments:

Bonnie, Original Art Studio said...

I just bet the one you are looking for is out there looking for you. Perhaps he's waiting in Venice - a sophisticated, yet down-to-earth Italian count eager to learn about all things American and introduce you to ... well, who knows. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he was there - waiting for you ...

BTW, when do you leave?

Delightfully amusing post Meri.

Friko said...

Hello Meri,
The About Me bit is about me, right? I've seen your comments around in the blogs of people I like, so i am going to have to follow your blog and read you. I like today's post very much.

Do you know the English poet Wendy Cope's poem
"Bloody Men"?

Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

Elisabeth said...

Great post and poem, wonderful paintings as well. I hate to generalise about men myself, but I find myself doing it occasionally too. It makes us feel better in a strange way.

I remember years and years ago before I met my husband, I was standing in a laundromat, I'd just broken up from another impossible relationship and wondering just as you wonder here, there must be someone out there for me. You just have to be lucky enough to connect with him when time and circumstances permit.

Keep on trying.

deb did it said...

Meri...this is a fabulous post!! Hilariously true! Just keep riding thru the storm...someday he will gently close that umbrella and calm your stormy waters! and by the way Elisabeth...I met my wonderful love of my life on the way to Laundromat!! So Meri...hmm...maybe go out for some Laundry? Great things can come from dirty laundry!

~JarieLyn~ said...

I thoroughly enjoyed your post today. It seems that is the way it always happens. When you say, "I give up, send me no more," that's when a good one will come knocking on your door.