I rather my lover be a rock
Cannot write if alone, non-social
Must engage, converse and go around.
I meant to give advice.
“Fiancé? Girlfriend? ”
And he talked.
Angry, unsettled; and he jumped.
Looked like bird, in search of a place to settle.
“God forgive…no, never.”
I smiled, talked of past, examples.
“We asked them for visit after work, and or dance…”
“Things have changed.”
His dislike obvious.
“Then bitch was an insult and slur…”
“Then F-word never lived in the books…”
“Then N-word was overt, at the end ‘O’ and ‘R’…”
“Then sexy was hardly a word used in public…”
“Then skirts were not short and if shorts, had limit…”
“Then collar showed little cleavage…”
“Then a girl was virgin for husband…”
He was air compressed in balloon; I needle, had punctured.
“Then woman meant a lot and a girl was a bud…”
“Then men had duties, cavaliers, fatherhood…”
“Now a girl, even wife….”
I could read what he meant.
“Then why should…? ”
He let sigh take over.
“I rather drinking melted sword…”
“I rather sleeping with a rock…”
“If are far they attract with makeup, sexual…”
“If close they blame, homophobic, by harass…”
“I am not a racist nor sexist, homophobic or such words…”
“I hate their tyranny, irrational, mean approach…”
“They arouse and blame, victimize…”
“Let them go have their hell…I’ll have mine; without them.”
I noticed my mistake…no advice from old. Age isn’t everything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem