The greatest insult, she felt,
Was the implication she was not smart.
Admit her beauty was not perfect
Or she did not possess a pure heart,
You’ll see anyone, with a smile,
Own these flaws, but not: “I’m not smart.”
“I don’t remember things, I’m crazy,
I don’t know many things by heart.
I don’t read literature, or know certain answers,
But don’t you ever tell me I’m not smart.
It isn’t even empathy or justice—
Hard choices must be made in the heart.
No, I wanted to end you—
When you assumed I wasn’t smart.”
Do you remember Marilyn Monroe?
How she delighted to be in photos reading books?
Or wearing glasses? Being an intellectual?
She wanted smart more than fame and looks.
But Marilyn proved to be not smart, didn’t she?
She thought JFK would leave Jackie and marry her.
What kind of embarrassment is this?
Are you smart? You’re not. I wish you were.
I proved smarter than you at last.
I said, Stay where you are.
(My poems? I wrote those in the past.)
You don’t need to leave him for me.
I will kiss you next week in your car.