On a perfect,
cloudless
summer day,
before I drove away,
I pullled off
the convertible top
to better see
driving under trees,
and sky,
and buildings
going by.
A friend
got in,
and stared
forward
out the window.
She liked feeling
the wind blow
through her hair,
but only looked forward where
she always did before.
She couldn’t see more
than her previous view.
So I stopped,
and said “Look up!”
and showed her something new.
To see a surprise
view, look to the skies.
Just for fun I delved/
into past on-line po’try./
You fin’ly got one.
I’d say caprese’/
should eas’ly trump blondes all day./
But I would be wrong.
The lines of man bridge/
ancient geographic gaps, but/
can’t block the full moon.
We are creators.
Our own destiny awaits.
Give up density.
How painful will it/
be the day that there’s no more/
exclusivity?
Three cute blondes in a row.
I emailed them all to let them know
I found them interesting and attractive.
I think they’d like that I’m funny and active.
The other two emailed me right back.
In a hurry, they gave me no slack
but said they’d quickly like to meet:
I should pick the place and the street.
But one haven’t responded yet,
and she’s the one I think I’d most get.
I’m funny and kind, and like to have fun.
I think we’d have a blast in the sun.
So now to make my trio ‘fini’,
I hope she’ll soon write me.
If I only send you emails and chat,
it will likely keep me
from that
vulgarity
that so threatens
the kind of friends
we want to be.
“Do you want children?” the question asked.
Over that small detail I’m taken to task?
Would I like them in her house?
Would I like them with her X-spouse?
Would I like them in her room?
Would I like them in her womb?
Would I like them here or there?
Would I like them anywhere?
Where I’d like them, I could not know!
I just try to go with the flow!
And I decry ambiguity.
At least, it seems that way to me.
For if I, to that question, say “No!”,
then women with children could turn and go,
as would women, certainly,
who were waiting, mothers-to-be.
But I’d not exclude them for that choice.
Being good partners means both have a voice.
And thus, the answer of open/uncertainty,
seems to fit, I think, the openness of me.
Thank you. I’m glad you listened;
and now my poem is at an end.
Except for this small thought before I part:
Wouldn’t you like a man whose heart,
soul, and mind
are open, generous, giving, and kind?
Who won’t disqualify before he starts?
Rehearsals don’t work./
Your real life’s audition and/
audience await.