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| I Don't Care If someone were to tell you That they don't care that you shake, You might feel a stab to your heart Though it was meant to put An end to your worry that your Tremor plays a part in how they Interact with you. Oh they may Be ill at ease with it, And facing it, difficult, But that doesn't mean they're without Amity sensitivity. Best to simply say, I'm glad You feel that way. Then there are those so wrapped up In their own strives; they've no care For what goes on in others' lives. And if your tremor was to disrupt Their self-absorption, concern yourself not With their reaction, even if repulsion. Think on 'I don't care' till it becomes A part of your inner most being And fear of others seeing you shake is gone. |
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| Reverse Driving She braked her car and squealed it in reverse To once again avoid meeting up with me. Now this was upsetting of course, Even though I knew it was because she Thought my face twitches dirty looks. I hid behind her trash bin Until she drove back, and out I booked. Jogged backwards, my scalp trembling Forward and back like a jiggling wig. She braked and jumped from her car cursing At me like some hysterical prig And waylaid me. With index finger wagging In my face, she turned her cursing to a shrill, "I'll get you kicked out of this vicinity If you don't stop!" "Stop what? My movement skills?" Just then, my nose started to boogie And this one movement more so shook her She drove off screaming, "Can't take this! I'm moving!" Wow, groovy payback for teasing my neighbor For shunning my tremors by reverse driving. |
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| What Could I Do? What could I do? They'd kidnapped me Because I could sign no name legibly, No matter how hard I struggled. They figured my tremor scribbles, As I signed the check they'd stolen, Would be accepted without question. With gun jabbing my back, hidden, They forced me up to the bank cashier And I gave him the check in fear. But he said I must sign it over again. This got my stress so pumped up, when I signed I wrote like whacked on crack. He refused to cash it and buzzed Security. And the kidnappers took off on me. When Security saw I'd tremors off the chart, They figured in crime I'd have no part, For no one with shakes like mine they knew Would sign in public unless forced to. The kidnappers were caught in the next state, Regretting their choice of a victim with shakes. |
| Tremor Tales page 19 |
| Shaking Bed I lie dreaming I'm my husband's truck driver, Burning up the highway ninety miles an hour. It's racing motor vibrating my insides Like an electric mixer set on high. He wakens me with a push to my head And gripes, "Your big ol' fan's shaking the bed. Please turn it off so I can get some shut-eye." I get out of bed and the shaking dies. It's then he sees vibrations in me. "Dear," I say as I get back in bed quickly, "Still think my inner tremor's all in my head?" "Nope, the fan didn't cause the shaking in the bed. Wow, my truck shakes like you, the same. It's very wearing." "Then my inner shaking bane Gives us something in common, don't you think?" "Sure do. Now you know why driving my truck stinks. Sleep in my arms the night through. Maybe, just maybe, that will still it for you." |
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| I Took His Advice "Doctor, E T lost me driving ability, And ruined my ability to do my job." "Try other ways to survive. Don't complain to me. Walk, be a telephone operator, Miss Robb." This cut me so deeply, when I left his office I walked to a telephone booth to call his Mrs.. "Your husband, please," I said in my sexiest voice. Doc said not to phone him at his place, But my next appointment is sooo far away." I then gave her my name, and she hissed, "I'll tell him you called but believe me, today Was your last exam," and she hung up. He called. "Miss," He growled, "You had no right to call my wife." "But I was following your advice to walk, And to operate a phone. All done in spite Of my E T." "I was wrong! Enough of this, Get another doctor!" Next day, his wife Took on the job of giving patients advice. |
| First Tee Jitters Blast this golfer's first tee jitters! They're revving my teeing hand tremors up. Worry over playing well is bad enough. I'm not even a fairway player, We're still at the driving range! Arrg, teeing the ball screwed it into the green And my friends' hoots are driving me insane. Since I'd lost the bet to do all the tee'n, I make like the ball has a good lie And drive it out with my sand wedge. It flies all of one inch, and I want to die. Still I grit my teeth and say -- my lips spread Tight in a grin, "Time to tee up the next player." And as one they cry, "No! No bet, we cheated!" They argue about who will take over So comically my jitters by laughter are shed. And I'm plagued with worry no longer. |
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