Amanda Tumminaro
First, Mary will pick at your brain,
till you feel like a lab rat
rushed down the drain.
You’re a fad, and she takes out her Nikon
to make you feel so utterly diseased,
till Susan Atkins considers you her personal icon.
Second, Mary will pick up your clothes and ask,
“Why are you such a ragamuffin?”
She’ll then look about for the steel of your flask,
and throwing up her hands, she will be frustrated.
Dangling a gold coin before you—
this is how she is compensated.
Finally, she’ll pick your heart like a flower
and check it like a pocket watch
every quarter of an hour.
Though she senses no strut in her stroll,
she wants to know for certain
that there’s no guard on your patrol.