Connie Soda

No one remembers me, I am a sister.
Sometimes they call me Commie Splices.
Bearded Lady, Zygote Birther, Goddess of Propriety,
Muff of Fur, Topless Coal Walker, Native-American Squaw,
Mucky Muck, Two Decades of Feminism: Dual Tank Treads;
Food Covetor, Wisdom Mist, Virgin, A Sentence Said [A.S.S.].

• I could have made my way up. There have been investigations.
• I got left aside, maybe the story strangled me in its turns.
• I have a weight as a One Crossed Over, but even the boatman trumps.
• I have no control over the situation beyond the sweater I was wearing.
• Ted found me dead weight or weightless on a very good mattress.
• My first husband was a scoundrel like all Southern men.

Father bleated on preaching of coin-slot plotters and drones,
They impeached him in the middle of a Period that was Misunderstood.
Show respect for the drifting cadres, growing, of Robed Men sifting in
from the forests and deserts and Fallowed Lands.
If you see a One called Ilyn, with a Red Afro, tell'im I'm his chillun.
Somewhere along the road, I could be Born Again like an albino I know.