What The F***, Helen

The following ballad, "What The Fuck, Helen," is the first poem from my poetry collection Slightly Damp Leg Hair, available in its entirety on the Creative Writing Section of my website. 

What The Fuck, Helen​
​
The fashion memo mailing list
must not contain your name.
We all wore blue, and you wore red,
and you’re the one to blame
 
Perhaps your name is on the list,
and we should blame the mail,
or maybe you received your note
we wrote in fine detail,
 
and you just threw it in the trash,
but wait the trash is you,
you filthy piece of Helen-trash
who wore not any blue.
 
Like yesterday when we wore grey
to walk around the mall,
you showed up wearing purple pants
and nothing grey at all.
 
We could have all matched as a group,
but you just had to not.
It’s like you’ve lost your memory
of all that we have taught.
 
So Helen, Helen, Helen dear,
we’re chancing you once more.
If you ignore the memo next,
you’re heading out the door.
 
Although you are a lovely friend
of whom we all endear,
your insubordination won’t
be tolerated here.