At mama’s table, we were served mostly adjectives.
We were a family of five girls. I was the youngest.
Of course, my sisters got first pick.
They were gorgeous, intelligent, clever and interesting. But we lived in a graphic neighborhood. There were only so many words to go around.
By the time I got the plate, I usually ended up being stupid or ugly.
My sisters grabbed up phrases about how they could eat whatever they wanted and never gain a pound,.
I was left with the gravy-fat sauce and raw nouns, so hard they broke my teeth.
I saved any words I could, nasty words, like slave, and cower, and cringe.
When I was grown, I ran away to a county of illiterates and lorded my language over them.
In the county of the unschooled, even ugly words rule.