Sorry, Saint Jude

On days like today I could give you a really good fight for your position;
I am a magnet if not the patron saint for lost causes:
Sociopathic husbands who throw away their jobs;
Seemingly great guys who date you once then tell you they’re probably dying;
Children who can’t read. (Not that it matters because they’d rather fight);
Rooms to be repainted in the same sanitarium green;
Child-sized gloves and adult ones lying like roadkill in the bushes and beside the street;
Short teenaged girls with hips shopping and shopping for jeans;
Dogs who will never ever be housebroken.
If I said enough Novenas- setting aside that I’m not Catholic-
Could we together conjure the magic
That would transport me into the story of Rudolph
And right to the Island of Misfit Toys?
The spotted elephant would be my pet.
Charlie-in-the-Box could be my new boyfriend.
I think they’d be glad to see me there;
They might even make me their queen.


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