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Dammit Girl

by Cynthia A. Jensen

Dammit girl, 

How many times do I need to say 

don't do this, don’t do that.

Do you think I enjoy hearing myself talk? 

If you think the answer is ‘yes,’ you’re damn wrong. 

 

Dammit girl, 

Your mama gone and left you. 

What the hell am I supposed to do with you? 

Never wanted a kid in the first place.

Told your mama that, but sonofabitch if she didn’t

get herself knocked up anyway. 

 

Dammit girl, 

Why is your teacher calling me at work? 

Telling me you ain’t been playing at recess 

with all your little school chums.

The hell’s wrong with you girl? 

You need to shoslize, or whatever 

the hell she said. 

 

Dammit girl, 

If I get fired for those calls, 

we are totally fuc...well, 

we'll be in a hell of a bind. 

At least you get food stamps, 

so, we’ll still have shit to eat.  

Too bad I can’t use them for my fireball whiskey. 

Say, how old are you, anyway? 

 

Dammit girl, 

Wait just a damn minute. 

How do I know that you’re my kin? 

Sure, you have my eyes. 

But really, it’s just your mama’s word. 

I guess there are ways of finding out. 

But for now, I guess I’ll keep you around. 

For a while. 

 

Dammit girl,  

Go to bed. It’s past eleven, and

I got work in the morning. 

 

I cover up and close my eyes.

I’m nine years old and my name 

is Zoey Clark.  

But daddy, I will always be 

Your Dammit Girl. 

I love you very much. 

Good night. 


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