dreamed 2008/8/17 by Wayan
My mom is dead. My dad's alive again.
He grieved a year, but now he's begun
to date. They're his students' age--
his daughters' age. That young.
He brings home two rivals, flirts
She scuttles from the kitchen, tears
Soon enough they'll start to tear
but I do. Loudly in the kitchen come,
I secretly hope the dejected one
It really happened once--in our
Nineteen, by her elders shunned,
Donna snuck off to my room.
Talked all evening in the dark.
Kissed deep for my first time.
Thanks, Donna. I still recall
I learned you can be kind,
Barely leave my bedroom.
Photocollages pave my floor
But I need to clear a road,
A small change, but a start:
When I woke, I realized it's true:
I won't seek love myself. Oh, I'll pursue
women safely met through friends,
but not on my own!
Hunting openly, alone?
That's just too crass!
A bit too much like my dad's pursuit
of juicy student ass.
I've cluttered my life with work.
It covers the despair.
If you can't date yet, sweep out your heart!
Make room for love! Prepare.
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