Stepford Lives

Stepford Lives

You know…

There was this girl: quiet, studious, very bright and almost soft underneath her armor.

A little church
a little street
a little skeptical
a little tired of doing everything the hard way.

Sat in my class and wrote me a story about doing right by a daughter born to a long gone daddy like a vision of pride.

She wore low cut tops, bracelets, a cross, two fine gold rings – and an offering; a shy smile of invitation to her miracle as guest of honor and savior in one, brief fling. Father to an orphaned mother’s daughter. An orgasm, tenderness and a sh*tload of bling.

I love my wife, I’m certain that I do, but sometimes I wish I could be her savior rather than the last rung on a rusted ladder before the darkness sings.

Anyway, this is my resignation, effective immediately. I think someone is waiting for me…