Though marginally and minimally demonstrative (one exception to the rule being outspoken admitting being secular and a skeptic in matters religious) expressing emotions concerning myself and the missus together as a legally fused moon unit since July 26, 1996, (nevertheless we weathered a couple/few years living together, albeit rather tumultuously) any and all previous relationships with the then girlfriend qua wife did witness ruptures and repairs (none of which registers even, a blip on seismometer, though between us yet the Seismogram needle would go way off the charts depending on the specific instrument, the paper used either smoked paper (a soot-blackened sheet where a stylus gently scrapes away the soot) or photosensitive paper, (which exposes an image via a beam of light), but in any case traditional analog seismographs record seismograms on paper attached to a rotating drum.
We met contra dancing at Summit Presbyterian Church located at 6757 Greene St, Philadelphia, PA 19119 and in retrospect (or hindsight - always twenty twenty) dubbed and hashtagged courtesy yours truly NBC’s Lorne Michaels mockingly dubbed his young, untested comedy troupe as two "Not Ready for Prime Time Players," nah not really, but a fair number of similarities (weaknesses in my mind) drew us together like opposite ends of two magnets, which initial acquaintanceship did quickly segue (pronounced seg-way) into into a physically intimate relationship since both me and the unnamed gal happened to be celibate while at the height, length, scope, and width, especially being at the peak years of sexual prowess, yet neither she nor one rambunctious thirty something year old guy noir (about eighteen months her senior) donned, implemented, nor obligated the other to apply a prophylactic.
Without a shadow of a doubt,
(albeit I approximately
one foot taller
than her four foot eleven inches in height)
each of us felt instantaneously attracted
to the other as if some divine light
broke thru the heavens
in characteristic zig-zag pattern
unbeknownst to us then
but signaled how we would
pledge our troth
and bring to a thunderous applause
mine solitudinarian book worm plight,
particularly promised to close
that chapter on my life quite
able, eager, ready and willing
to accept barenaked lady
gravid with our first daughter
cuz she, the eventual wife
thought fitting and proper
to adopt role of being staunchly right
and set a wedding day,
where fellow dancers would take sight
and yet another match made in heaven
as registered courtesy a thermocouple
and overseen by a fortune teller,
who foresaw a bit of tumultuousness,
nevertheless at this junction in time
experience a stronger omnipotent bond
where ofttimes in the past I did write
and post including name of spouse
without being granted success.
The title of this prosaic poem
inspired by the missus
who didst pepper me
with questions about
mein kampf and hard times
regarding previous love labor's lost
and in the not to distant past
his/him errant adulterous behavior
nearly compromised the marriage
and still smarting
from the psychological impact
upon darling daughters
both of which live
countless miles away
as the crow flies
and truth be told,
an emotional estrangement
directly linkedin
to sowing my wild oats
despite pledging mine troth
to the mother of said offspring
and now decrying
spending countless hours
answering and posting
personal classified advertisement
mainly when Craigslist
served as a virtual hub
for men and women
to traverse the figurative Appian way
searching for...
Rome antic encounters
of the third eye blind kind
frolicking in the autumn mist
in a land called Honah Lee.
Now the libido
didst imitate a crash test dummy
analogous to take
a kamikaze nose dive,
actually bonafide relief
from seething hormonal secretion
cuz a postponed puberty
(courtesy anorexia nervosa),
I (a figurative doggone introvert)
short changed myself
experiencing puppy love
and plunged head first
into the xxx zone of verboten fruit
which never got slaked
until more confidence materialized
after (being nudged by my mother) -
who long since passed away
but when alive, she pestered -
not such a prodigal son -
soon braved asking one
after another pretty women
(sweaty hands be damned)
to dance with me,
and felt on top of the world
unwittingly snubbed the then
single long haired gal -
shopping for a husband
to date other women,
one reply not conducive
to allow, enable and provide
an interpersonal heterosexual relationship
wither on the vine
characteristic of one baby boomer
at least in his unbiased opinion
earned well deserved appellation
viz hitter among generation of vipers
(or "brood of vipers")
a biblical metaphor used to describe
deceitful, dangerous, or hypocritical individuals
implying inner malice
and spiritual corruption
hidden behind an outward
appearance of goodness
cue Culture Club's
iconic hit "Karma Chameleon"
notably written in 1983 by Boy George,
while on a holiday in Egypt
before the band
went on to record said song
for their album Colour by Numbers.