Day 163, so long ovaries

This is in tribute to all women (especially one of my favorite women) who've said good bye to the little tyrants. Adios, via con dios!

Adios Ovaries.

They are ogres, the little ovaries
smile. cry. smile. cry.
bloat. yell. bloat. yell.
They are smug little puppet masters
pulling the estrogen strings at whim
and we are their little vetriliquist act
we speak their truth despite our own
knowledge that life is quite opposite
It's like God put out a job search for
aeronautical engineers and decided carnys
would be more fun, "You wanna go up again or down?
Couldn't hear you darling... down it is!" he snarkles
as he releases the lever for yet another mood swing
or a little hot flash fun.
"Ha. Ha. Ha." we grumble.
"HA. HA. HA. I'll show you funny!" we laugh
maniacally and somewhere, after this point,
the surgeon is called, an appointment made
and an unemployed carney grabs his hobo sack
and hits the road, ride left unattended, but
halted none the less.



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