After taking care of some irl, Today's News Poem and today's upgrade of Toylit, I will make those sites operational, with rules and scoring and everything. Consider it the page-equivalent of a poetry slam--with the higher standards that implies.
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A My Name Is Alice and My Husband's Name is Al
by Swann
-I’m worried about Gail, the mother begins a familiar litany after her daughter was long asleep.
A little girl listens at the bedroom door.
-Not that again, Daddy groans. She’s fine, stop looking for things to worry about.
She could always count on Daddy to defend her.
-All she does is read inside and bounce her ball outside.
The girl pictures those two lines between the mother’s eyes.
-Good. She’s an intellectual PLUS she’s an athlete! Well-rounded, I’d say.
Daddy was gone by the time his wife’s worry proved to be well-founded. She wasn’t much of a nurturer, the mother, but she did know her child.
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A little girl bounces a ball on the pavement in front of a row house.
The house has a green and red-striped awning above a porch not much bigger than a bathtub. It’s the family pride, only awning on the block. Sadly, awning ownership can’t cover up problems inside the house.
The cement paving is divided neatly into squares. The row of houses and the orderly march of squares continue as far as the eye can see, both courtesy of 1944’s GI Bill.
People notice the girl as they drive by. She makes a charming picture with those perfect sausage curls and a lacy dress, as she bounces her yellow ball.
She was playing the ball-bouncing game called A My Name is Alice, which continues "and my husband's name is _____.” The bouncer fills in all the nouns, proper and common, such as ‘A my name is Alice and my husband’s name is Al. We come from Alabama where we sell apples.’
This was her favorite game until one day, it caused trouble with the mother. It was the time Abby and Abe from Albuquerque sold abortions. A neighbor overheard. The girl was down to Freda and Frank in Florida selling farts when her mother shot out of the house like a cannon, blowing up Babs and Ben, Clara and Chauncy, Darla & Dan. Chunks of butt plugs, puddles of cum and fragments of dicks were found everywhere for weeks, though not always identifiable as such.
After that, the girl gave up the game because she didn't want to endanger her alphabet friends or their livelihoods. Instead, she just bounced the ball and made up stories about a brave little girl who continually battled a mean old witch. The witch looked suspiciously like her mother.
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G her name was Gail and her husband’s name was Gabe. They lived in Galveston, where they made geodisic domes.
They were happy for awhile.
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When Gail was an old lady, she didn’t remember the alphabet game from her childhood. She did remember bouncing the ball and making up stories. Upon exploring this memory, she was surprised to find the witch was not her mother, after all. Instead, she recognized herself in the role. The transformation had been excruciatingly gradual, over decades, and now, the resemblance was uncanny.
But back in the ball bouncing days, she was still partially innocent.
unedited The End
Okay. Now let's see that revision. If I have time, I'm going to try to rewrite it, so you'd better beat me to the punch.
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