Not Mya II

That I was niether Angella, Assata, Alice or Mya
Never dawned on me till I was fourty-two
And men no longer called me sweetie,
  But mam.
And I watched them not for the ripple of shoulders
Or buldged britches
Pondered over daquaries and girl talk
But for quiet compassions
And eyes too polite to notice
 Varicose veins and prolapsed stomachs.
Before then, I lived in a dream of 'special' me
Only waking to find the line to "special"...crowded.

                                                          Billye Okera

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