If I Could Mute My Mouth

My mouth gets the rest of me in trouble.
I can’t trust it.
You hear my thoughts at
the same time I do.
Because I neglect to run my words
through edit check.

That’s how I get into more hot water
than white shirts at a Chinese laundry.

And once I’ve spoken,
let the cat out of the bag,
spilled the proverbial beans,
there’s no taking back.
No rewind.

I’ve heard that honesty is the best policy,
and that the truth shall set us free
but when asked if these pants make
her butt look big,
quicksand shifts beneath my boots.

There it is;
my uncensored hardcore opinion
spit from my merciless mouth
like popcorn hulls.

If only I could put my mouth on mute.

But then I’d have to watch out for lip-readers!


Patricia Prewitt
January 10, 2007