An Old Fool

She  was an old foolish woman
The kind plagued with the too's. 
Her weave too long, her shoes too high, her pants to tight.
You get it.

No degree from a univeristy could erase the ignorance
that flowed like sewage from her mouth
Her breath stank
You smell it

She always thought she looked good
But in reality she was rode hard and hung up wet.
She was a lady and a tramp.
You see it

And now she is old as the hills
Without the sense God gave a goat
to stop wearing, in July, her fur coat
You feel it

When she dies, we all will cry for fifteen minutes
and stuff our mouths with chicken.
Her legacy lay in the tacky way she lived, loved and died.
Your words are harsher than the storm of 62, but
You mean it.