i told the red-haired girl to pack her bags
and be gone by morning.
in her eyes like a sleepiness
that would not rub out.
even then, in the wrong,
she scowled at me.
i told the blonde and beautiful
woman with a cross to bear, to witness
somewhere else and take
her lack of empathy with her martyred
axe. there was simply
no room for that here.
i told the black-haired teenager,
angry and wishing to be noticed,
to listen to herself
before she ever
spoke to me again.
and i told the small brunette
child with eyes as big
that it was okay to come home now
that all the other tempers were