Changed
He changed
He used to be
on the brink of real insight
Read the Siddhartha
and dispense recycled wisdoms. Your stories of virtue
formed by the arbitrary metaphysics of your father.
He’s not my father,
and if he was I wouldn’t listen,
as they’ve all called me hardheaded
and learned to get out of my way.
She’s greedy and pale
and expects quick dividends
on an unyielding stock
who has changed and reverted
and dipped into
back to high school
back to young girls
afraid of commitment
drink a cheap beer
back to eighteen
back to
ha
privileged as you are, looking back
and here I’m forced tumbling forward
with no identifiable respite