Being Right (Poetry)

So you take home the boyfriend
knowing she won’t like him
knowing she will find fault
and you’re right —
she doesn’t even give him
a fair chance.

It’s worse than you thought
worse than just dislike —
she hates him on sight
it’s an awkward half hour
and you want it to be over
she’s so icily polite.

When he’s gone she tells you straight —
he’s a loser — can’t you tell?
you defend him — things get heated — shrill
you bang out the door — forget your key
and stay at his place for the night
drink too much and take a sugar pill.

It’s okay for a week or two —
until the big romance of it
wears thin and gaping holes
appear — he’s nothing like
the guy you met
or thought he’d be.

And what your mother said — her words
keep coming back to you —
you tell him he’s a slob —
it ends up ugly — you don’t know who
you’re the more angry with —
yourself for being wrong or her

being so right.