There is the family.
A dozen kids and more,
a husband second to
she thinks, a global bet,
and snow in wintertime,
the usual malfunction
of the Ford distributor
and those inferior plugs,
on that important way to school
and classes for the grown-ups,
with keen anticipation
plus a salary of dreams
and useless tests of blood
as well as other things,
the need to fret is gone
it has been buried by
what grandpa would have called
the ostrich syndrome.
She is too smart to really postpone
all those moronic blinks,
those writings on the walls
of sterile surgeries,
and rubber-gloved ideas.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-about-mary/
