Sheila What’s Happening to Us (poem)
Sheila What’s Happening to Us
…the mystery is how they’re getting in
Like a pod-born infection of the country’s youth
One day your daughter is perfect and wears a dress
Joins Mom and Dad at the breakfast table
Spoons her oatmeal, studies for a test
One day a hippie cat with a reedy voice
(TV gigs today, Oscar later for that boffo 80s western)
Is leaning on the bell, looks like hell
Greasy long locks and love beads
Asks if Rain is in her room…heh!
Will she come down, daddy
Hey, man, I gotta split
Yeah, that ain’t my thing, man
But groovy, peace, man, anyhow
Dad’s eyes are popping
Rain, he says, when she saunters to the living room
In poncho and paisley peasant blouse
So what, she says, that’s what he calls me
Have you been cutting classes
Don’t wait up for me
This father who sees the world he trusts
Disintegrate under a commie plot
Not explicit in the script, but we know
We know
…what undermines our nation’s values
Cut his teeth in regional theater
Got his break as a turtlenecked spy
A little past his prime and tubby
But a wonderful, sonorous delivery
Young blond guy (was a surfer) got to be the star
But here’s a chance to tackle timely themes
And to the movie camera, taking a close-up
This actor’s actor whispers to his wife
Sheila, what’s happening to us?
The Day You Were Born
It Spoke of Its Broken Bones
(2017, Stephanie Foster)