POEM - It Wasn’t Elvis

I didn’t choose to raise teenage girls

I’m not particularly suited for it

Growing up I had one sister

            And we never got along

So, my frame of reference is biased

My tolerance level low

Squeals of over-excitement

            Rapid half said words

                        Drama llamas

All of it makes me a curmudgeon

What’s worse is my own daughter is transforming

Becoming one of these weird creatures

I have to stop her often

Make her repeat nearly every sentence

            At half the speed

                        Enunciating each word

It is enough to make me scream

Sometimes I even do

Though I try not to scream at her

Cuz it makes her leak

Then on the way to Claire’s concert

End of year sixth grade orchestra

Already on edge

            About the pending ordeal

Expecting to be assaulted

            By out of tune violins

                        Played like twangy fiddles

Josie erupts from the back seat

“OH MY GOSH!! (high pitch squeal)

            I THINK THAT WAS GABBIE!!! J !!! J !!!”

My sarcasm was instant

“No way!!!” (over emphasis and eye roll added)

            You saw Gabbie driving

            Down the road

In the town we both live in

            In the same general direction

            Of the neighborhood we both live in

            A couple of 100 yards apart?!?!?!”

“Appropriate reactions Josie.

                        It wasn’t like it was Elvis!”

I felt good though

I think I finally figured it out

Said something that made sense

            And provided quantifiable parameters

Realized that, like so many things

It is just a matter of how it rates

Compared to a sighting of Elvis