Bitter Strawberries by Sylvia Plath
All morning in the strawberry field
They talked about the Russians.
Squatted down between the rows
We listened.
We heard the head woman say,
'Bomb them off the map.'
Horseflies buzzed, paused and stung.
And the taste of strawberries
Turned thick and sour.
Mary said slowly, 'I've got a fella
Old enough to go.
If anything should happen…'
The sky was high and blue.
Two children laughed at tag
In the tall grass,
Leaping awkward and long-legged
Across the rutted road.
The fields were full of bronzed young men
Hoeing lettuce, weeding celery.
'The draft is passed,' the woman said.
'We ought to have bombed them long ago.'
'Don't,' pleaded the little girl
With blond braids.
Her blue eyes swam with vague terror.
She added petishly, 'I can't see why
You're always talking this way…'
'Oh, stop worrying, Nelda,'
Snapped the woman sharply.
She stood up, a thin commanding figure
In faded dungarees.
Businesslike she asked us, 'How many quarts?'
She recorded the total in her notebook,
And we all turned back to picking.
Kneeling over the rows,
We reached among the leaves
With quick practiced hands,
Cupping the berry protectively before
Snapping off the stem
Between thumb and forefinger.
bitter
adj. having a strong unpleasant taste, having an acrid taste; cruel, harsh; resentful, having a feeling of ill will, indignant, angry; very cold
There is nothing more unbearable and also deserving of punishment of a bitter woman.
I have two cousins in my family who are like that. I could not bear to spend a few days at my aunt had died because of the sour taste of them. They looked like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, 1962 movie, directed by Robert Aldrich.
Late at night, I called a service my credit card and left the two fruits resentful.I went to a hotel. At the time, they were a year at least 15 years older than me. They blamed my aunt died because they could not have gone to bed with men, more adventures or even had sex. Pure stupidity of those who are afraid to pay to see and not live. Then these are the most unhappy lame excuse to send the account of their fears for those who are dead.
Do you know why because I tell this sad episode of my relatives (did not choose our friends but our family members)? Why bump a lot with that kind of woman everywhere. Since hair salon, a coffee with a former co-worker I come across many social networks.
This type of woman grudges my lifestyle. I never wanted to marry me because my independence is my priority. But I really love, passion, one night stand and I was more loved than loved. Ran the world alone and still do even with fibromyalgia. And thanks to my source, do not have to worry about my old age. I need not work for a living. Although fibromyalgia, which lucky girl I am, is not it?
Man was never a problem for me. If I want one now, get what I desire. But sex is not so important in my life anymore. I have had enough. Oh, it must be damn good this man to drag me to his bed, his life ... And how will always have the male archetype of the hunter,I attract young men in their 30s, older (can not stand men much older than me because I have a wonderful father) and those of my generation. Obviously I will not speak of my sexual and affective life here today.
I saw a pathetic case. An ugly, no fri appeal, bitch and pretentious. Became an alcoholic after an anything ethical for a reporter: an unauthorized person entering an bus of the Armed Forces. She is grandmother and has not resolved her love-hate relationship with her mother. The four sons grow wings and fled. And unwilling to sustain the Mommie Dearest which distributes slapped on bar tables after getting high.
This fake was the most radical left thought it was only one way of salvation: to find a man to underpin her. And she'd be defined as a feminist all my life.
Her searches on the Internet, ICQ, relashionships sites and even social networks yielded a comedy worthy of Pedro Almodovar. Since the British military, big guy to Portuguese and Americans addicted to cocaine. Fishing for the tramp lady did not seem to work until she decided to face a lower middle class guy in Manchester, England. He is fascist conservative and puts those horrible swans in the garden.
Tramp Lady pretends she is happy, but chased me, drunk and defamed revealed secrets that I recorded because I had already discovered the miserable SOB "friend" that I had. I have several tapes in her home by telephone and even a bar. It is illegal? Maybe, but I have enough evidence to sue for defamation and damages to witnesses.
Baby, I got my rat pack.
Note: This is fiction based on my collection of bitter fruit of poor women. They abound on Facebook and Twitter.
