rapid prose poem 33
A single mother tired on father’s day after all there’s still grandpa and the ex-big boss man still can’t get over the feelings for. Everyone’s smiling for the happy day until exhaustion kicks in. Exhausting the responsibilities and leaving for club night honey lovin while I get a shuttle from the Honda dealership and think do people still use that word why does it seem demeaning? The seats are out and a bedframe lays in the back of my vehicle to entice the mechanic into thoughts about adultery and youthful back car lust accidentally procreating when actually I sleep there alone this winter and send whatsapp messages around the world. People say I’d make a good dad.