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Attack of the Killer HusbandsAll week long at the gymI've pedaled further, treadmilled harder Because of the made for T.V. movies About the psychopathic killer husbands. The basic plot is always the same-- The heroine, brunette or blond, Just wants to be a good Wife and mother, But her husband has changed-- It's the steroids, or jealousy Or the fact that he, although handsome, and a dentist, (Or a cop) Has already secretly murdered his first wife. Increasingly isolated In the nice suburban house Or palatial redwood cabin We come to the same scene: They are eating dinner, He is enraged about something, And the look of realization crosses her face-- He'll stop at nothing. I bike stationary mile after mile Waiting for the moment When pushed to the edge She'll shoot him through the head. One disconcerting thing is The killer husband is always in great shape Works out constantly for the camera Testosterone pumping, a poor message For the gym Linking fitness to murder. I don't want you to think I watch these movies To feel morally superior, I've had my own troubles And husbands. I never even get to see The end of the movies-- The prison scenes, the defense trial. They're hours longer than my work-out, It's just that moment at dinner I like Where he criticizes the peas, or the steak And she peers teary-eyed Over the wine glass rim And realizes It's her, or him. |
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Issue #26, April, 2002 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.