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
with both and finally chooses one.
Tells the other "Call a cab."
Won't even drive her home!
She scuttles from the kitchen, tears
dammed so He and She won't laugh.
Dad and his Chosen kiss again,
deep enough to gasp.
Soon enough they'll start to tear
off clothes and fuck right there.
They know I see and they don't care.
Resenting his love life is unfair;
but I do. Loudly in the kitchen come,
but Dad, at least don't bring your own
students--my near-classmates--home,
to bait your timid son!
I secretly hope the dejected one
he lured to his lair then threw away,
will wander the halls in frustration--
into my art studio. Wander into me.
It really happened once--in our
house where no one danced.
Faculty party; Dad's colleague Jim
brought Donna: trophy date.
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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
you woke the loinfire slumbering
in the shy boy down the hall.
But really, most of all,
I learned you can be kind,
let sex and friendship blend.
This from Donna, put on show--
trophied, then marooned.
Barely leave my bedroom.
Masturbate and moan.
Hope for dad-spillage.
Hope is all I own.
Photocollages pave my floor
spilling into the hall,
black-and-white, tape-seamed.
Art fills time, that's all.
But I need to clear a road,
a path to welcome Girl,
Dumped Girl into Geek-Boy world!
And so I sweep and sort.
A small change, but a start:
for by the time I wake,
I've cleared
the entry to my heart.
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