13 May 2012
Mama,
Look at me now.
Well, if only you could see me now,
They probably don't have TVs in the cuckoo house.
Yes, it's your Norma Jeane.
Miss California Artichoke Queen.
Who'd have thought a girl from an orphanage
Could rise to such lofty heights?
But, I suppose what goes up must come down.
See, I'm not as stupid as they think.
I graduated UCLA.
Yes, I'm famous now, it's swell
Although,
They won't take me seriously.
I tried the 'Studio' to no avail
And when I try to talk about Mozart
They laugh and brush me aside.
No, I haven't found a man
Although, I've tried.
I've had three now
And people are saying I've had two others.
No, no grandchildren. I lost them.
Twice.
But, hey. Who'd have thought
A poor girl working a Burbank munitions plant
Would come this far?
Sure, they judge me by my curvaceous cover
But I'm happy.
Aren't I?
I don't know.
It must be in our blood
To always end up
With the fuzzy end of the lollipop
Huh?
To be left with the squeezed out tube of toothpaste
When they've gotten what they want.
Who?
Well, men. Papers. Hollywood.
America.
Discarded like an empty carton.
Seen as nothing more than jello on springs.
Not the bright, kind, funny
Wonderful women we are.
Shot into the sky and crashing down
Tainted angels fallen to Earth.
Well, so long Mama.
Catch you soon.
Yours NJM.
Or is it NJB?
Or MM?
I don't know anymore.
Marilyn • Opuss № I