SHOULDA’S

Over eons we’ve conjured things to say,
after being admonished then walking away,
and holding back on the things we’d say,
to fight again some other day.
This silent attitude when applied,
leaves man to function as a tribe.
The French have given it a name,
so please allow me to explain.
"L'Esprit de L'Escalier,”
refers, you’ll find,
to thoughts that tumble through your mind.
“The Spirit of the Stair,” leaves left unsaid,
words that might cause trouble ahead.

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To Wit:

I should’a called the bum a jerk
A rotten scoundrel, a lifeless slug.
I should’a hit him with a zinger
Like, kiss my ass, then shot the finger.
I should’a said you doltish fool,
You dorky misbegotten creep.
I should’a been a bit more terse,
gotten physical, or even worse:
Told him that he had no father
that his face looked like a pig’s behind,
that his breath was foul as a ferret's leavings,
which left all around him heaving.
But no, I smiled and held my tongue,
and took his crap like I always did.
So, I still have my job today…
Thanks to L’Espirit de Escalier!