BAM BAM

Stupidity has never been my strong suit
I've always excelled at everything I've tried
And yet here I sit
Escaping being a statistic
Only by virtue of my age and my income
I stare out the window
covered in one of those flimsy paper gowns
And wonder what wise woman first said
"Keep your socks on"
It's raining outside and it suits my mood
And YES!
I'm being over-dramatic, god-damnit
But I have a right to be
42 years old
Vice President of a major 200 corporation
And caught completely unaware
...... well, perhaps not completely 
I am not an idiot and I know how birth control works.
I remember all too well the night
That got me in this condition.
Several drinks, a rock concert, front row against the stage
Backstage pass and afterward the drummer ...
who signed my ....
I had nothing for him to sign
But oh honey, he was perfection
With those big arms and boyish charm
And an accent just as sweet as a Georgia peach
And although I had nothing for him to sign
He sure as hell left his signature behind.
Where the hell is the doctor?
He's giving me too much time to think!
The pregnancy test this morning, responsibilities I don't know if I want
And do I have to tell the drummer?
He's a drummer for christ sake!
He talked about sex and pot and drumming
And I think his brain was at full capacity!
I certainly don't need a dime of his money
Or a piece of advice from that Georgia peach!
Where the fuck is that doctor?
Does the drummer daddy have a right to know?
That's the real question?
What could he bring to a child's life?
To a .... a child.
Just the drummer, the drummer.
I can keep my mind on him.
Do I tell him or not.
Does he have rights?
No, of course not!
After a quickie backstage
And by the way ...
I am NOT a fucking groupie!
And I don't even know
How to reach him
Except through his fan club.
His fan club!!
Oh Jesus ...
I'm a groupie.