I had a weird cousin once, second hand
She lived in 10024, Manhattan for short
Her persona was west of the nineteen sixties
Dressing up as a retired hippie
Nor knowing what shampoo was, nor toothpaste
Reminding everyone that nuclear bombs kill, surprise!

She lived in a room, yes just one
Cheap, made it hip, acceptable
Cleaning never took place, except facially
Lost, in books and second-hand Lena Horn disks
Traveling in a lesser class than cattle class
Spending money, well she never spent she sponged

Argumentative being her middle name, confrontational, her first
Lost in people management skills, there were none
Rubbing more people wrongly than she was rubbed herself
Between bee pollen shakes, she would splutter through brown teeth
Never wrong, always articulate, loud mouthed but correct
Telling her otherwise was a waste of energy

She could be lovable through her eccentricities
Spending much time caring for those who bought dinner
Twenty years my senior, far junior in behavior
A coming together of disagreements ending the volatility
Seven years since my blood pressure returned to normal
No calls and no visits, she must be a lonely soul.