I Offered You My Understanding Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

No more of your B.S.,
Am I digesting.
To believe your serving of it,
I deserve.
Your menu may be limited,
But none of it am I having.
Nor am I going to have you pick,
A choosing with me to start a conflict.

I offered you my understanding.
With a sitting to comprehend,
Your childhood pain.
But my own dysfunctions,
Were not a Sunday picnic to face.
And an ignorance I once defended,
Today I can not accept.
I've gotten too old to allow my patience,
To be tested by anyone...
Proving they can neglect,
Showing me respect.

'Sir?
You asked of me,
What were today's specials.
And you've been here before.
On many occasions.
Normally you would order,
The 'Beef Stroganoff'.
And all I said,
Was that I was prepared...
To serve you B.S.
The way you have come to like it.'

Uh...
Could I have,
A glass of wine with that?

'Sure.
Before, during or after...
Your favorite B.S.? '

I'm having one of those 'moments' today.
Do you mind just saying Beef Stroganoff?
And I apologize bringing up your childhood.

'That's okay.
You made me realize,
Aging to acquire patience...
Has nothing to do,
With those dysfunctions coming back to visit.'

I'll have that wine, now.