It was time. Something was going wrong.
A phone call made to ask us to come, to dinner.
Being cheerful as I usually was, on that next night,
I tried to really make the conversation.
My mother hardly saying a good word to her and me,
She was trying to put us through, a lot of hell.
She wasn’t there, for just a short moment,
So this gave me the chance to go through the cement.
Mother was giving her reasons of being upset,
It was New Year’s Eve and she, was asleep in bed.
Michelle had only been drinking for a short while ago,
And at Mum’s, she wasn’t feeling to bloody very well!
She had to have some rest,
She had to have some rest,
And she wasn’t feeling the very best!
More French, then Czech or Australian friends had attended.
I was all right as I was used to this.
But Michelle was quite bored,
And I felt the same, bored.
With only one Australian couple there,
Who of which were the only ones who were sane.
Because She did not mingle with the crowd,
Because she was too tired to stay up,
Because while asleep, Michelle hit my mother in the face,
There were reasons: mum was very tired that night.
According to my sister (Who has yet, has not been through life),
My conversation was sick and irrelevant to her.
As I cut her with words, like an imaginary knife,
And the topic of marriage was discussed with videos, as well.
I only made a suggestion to her,
About our marriage being videotaped.
Her voice raised up,
Like a thunder of lightening.
I stood up, immediately,
As I could not take ant more!
While side comments were being made,
By a junior professor, Anne-Marie.
Her hand, pointing only in one direction, all the time,
As we, ourselves, knew which way was the “Way Out!”
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