Reasons I Left My Wife

It wasn’t that she would always leave

A trail of her overt lovers

Paraded for the world to see.

Or that she would explode every time I left the

Toilet seat up. Or forgot to put the blue bottle daisy fine china behind the pink herringbone porcelain

Not next to it.

It wasn’t because she was starting to pack on the pounds

Of the three children that she pushed out of her growing

Gargantuan gut. And ate for dinner.

Or that the scanty sex with her was like making love to a floundering whale.

It wasn’t her incessant nagging

“Why can’t you be more like Jim/Harry/Charlie/ Tom?”

Or the way she looked

Pursed iron chapped lips and hands on hips

Drill sergeant ready to take fire

Whenever I fetched the wrong brand of milk.

No,

Reasons I Left My Wife:

Because she was a bitch.