Did He Just Say That?
big butt, bigger ego
Across the street was a patisserie renowned throughout the entire city. I couldn’t pass without ordering a croissant. When it came to pastry, I was no dilettante – across every street was a patisserie!
A bus stop halted my habit at last via a rude old Frenchman with a lecherous past. He flirted with my daughter, he strut and strut then, eying me, called out, American women, big butt! A bus stop halted my habit at last.
But not the habit you may be thinking though, yes, the Frenchman’s behavior was stinking. I still quaff croissants as my mood dictates; stories like these my soul now celebrates. No, it’s not the habit you may be thinking
Ego was the enemy, not the old man. I wrapped myself in brooding, offense my caftan. Forever it took to learn my butt is not me: it’s the starboard quarter navigating eternal seas. Ego’s the enemy, the real bogyman.
©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2021
This tale is true. An old man flirting with my daughter in Paris took one look at me as I left a patisserie and, spreading his arms even wider than his grin, belted out, “American women, big butts!”
“Uh, mom, the bus is here,” said my daughter.
“Did he just say that?” I sputtered as she pulled me away then pushed me on board the bus. “Did he just tell me I have a big butt?”
Theologian Richard Rohr was once asked by Oprah, “How do we know when we’re in our false self?”
“When we’re offended,” RR replied instantly.
I was SO in my false self when it came to this story with the old man. “Let it go, Mom,” my daughter’d counsel. Easy for you to say — young, svelte, photogenic, I’d grouse under my breath.
Gradually, thanks to thinkers like Richard Rohr, Eckhart Tolle, and Buddha, plus an infinity of poets including Rumi and Rilke, I’ve caught on. My butt may be part of me (physically) but I am not my butt. Unless, of course, I allow my ego free rein to be a horse’s ass.
Obviously I am having fun with this story, which is why I chose to tell it in limericks.
Here are the basic rules: Employ one rhyme on the first, second, and fifth lines Employ a second rhyme on the third and fourth lines Often, the fifth line echoes the first.
This poem was prompted by Carolyn Hastings after I read her poem on almond croissants. Warning: it’ll amp up your carb craving! Thank you, Carolyn, for playing muse.
Thank you, Lucy The Eggcademic (she/her), for making room in your ‘cupboard’ for my ‘croissant’ — filled with reminiscences of a wondrous Mother-Daughter stay in Paris.
Thank you, dearest readers, for journeying with me.
