"Love was a disappointment my dear
it was a fever dream in a foregone season,
children playing at grownup things of
which they knew little if at
all.

Eventually your eyes adjust and
all the polish and the shine,
it just dulls,
and a loaf of bread is
more meaningful
and
the rent is due.

Good intentions don't balance the books
so you just get on with it.
You grow up
because that is what you
just
do.

That is why I say it bores me
and the youthful dalliances of little girls
become tiresome.

I get tired of playing daddy
and I'd give up one hundred orgasms
for one evening of intelligent and worthwhile
conversation."