thirty-seven years old and newly free
no longer servant to parent or man
up the American financial tree
and chained to a job, doing what I can
should have gone on alone at twenty-three
not slave to any man who looked my way
lacking the courage and the means to flee
my looks and i.q. couldn’t carry the day
caught between suburbanite and hippie
trapped by my husbands’ sad hermitic lives
schizophrenia outsiders couldn’t see
turning to hell for unfortunate wives
prosperous alone for twenty-five years
at last free at last from insults and tears
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