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Response to Excuse 3

Alas, dear heart, your shooting from the hip
has cost us dearly,
and I agree that we need time
for YOU to grow
but that case of acute penisitis vaginosis
(that’s my personal observation, diagnosis)
that what you don’t need is two cars to drive
leaving one in my driveway to let all others know
that I am occupied and not with others free to go
while you expect that I should lie here dead
while you remain afluttering afield instead –
and pregnancy– ? that takes two to decide
if you want to yes – pop your gun inside
before you hit the trigger of that writhing worm
and leave them swimming uphill, little sperm
and do you dare to state that I should have to wait
and do I dare to intimate that I would want to wait
while you sow all the fields all your smiling seeds
and think – to dare to think all that will fill my needs?

And I know you say I am your moon and stars,
I am your earth and sun,
I am your only one
(except for Gertie, Mildred, and some broad from Mars)
and I know you want to love me best
after practicing with the rest,
and you do this for the love of me –
they will not last eternally –
and I will? Because you say so?

Then I remember that disease you have,
you remember: “a cute penis itisvaginosis”
or something like that
and your preferred car is a Swedish Vulva,
and your idea of oral sex is talking about
Gertie, Mildred, or what’s her name from Mars,
and you speak tongue in cheek,
not either one of mine,
and for sport, you think of sex as golf
in which you hold your club
and try to poke a hole in one,
anyone willing to listen to your fabled tales of love
and yes, I miss your warm affection
that you “gave at the office”
and your tender arms
that wreak of someone else’s sweat,
and your eyes into which
I often look to see myself
and see the panorama
of your circus life
just clowning around,
your high wire act
without a net below
and I can only watch
you play your games
a one-act play of female names.

Yet, dear love of mine,
you ask me be patient, wait
for you to finally decide
if it’s really me you love
or me you really hate.

1.

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