Poem -
Call me Lucky
Matrimonials: Will you marry me?
I don't drink, gamble or smoke
But I also don't chauffeur family road trips
Though highly qualified
I work quid pro quo
My shirts are creased
My pockets have holes
No matter how tight I bind my shoes
the laces keep coming undone
I'm the kind of guy whose parachute won't open
But also the guy who'll survive the fall
The guy who brushes with death and loses a vital organ
But not that vital
A shark might take my reproductive components
but not finish the job
leaving me washed up on the beach
cursed to a life of dissatisfying loneliness
I'm the kind of guy who when he isn't being sabotaged
is self-sabotaging because
that's just how it is
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Comments
I wrote this in response to a question I get thrown at me all the time--and it's so annoying!--"Why don't you get married again?" (as if getting married is like riding a pushbike in a park filled with flower gardens, or as "natural" as a child's learning to stand and walk) LOL