dash
 Susan
 
Like a storm at a garden party,
there is little use for Susan.
The things she says, she doesnít mean,
or she doesnít mean to say them.
No-one knows what to do with Susan -
chastise her, box her, ignore her?
She doesnít dovetail, and she fidgets.
Nobody wants that.
 
Like a laugh at a great auntís graveside,
there is nothing right about Susan.
Sometimes, she floats thoughts like bubbles.
often, they pop-pop-pop.
No-one knows what to say to Susan -
her responses cannot be planned for.
They can leave you knowing nothing.
Nobody wants that.

Nina Parmenter

If you have any thoughts on this poem, 
Nina Parmenter would be pleased to hear them.


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