Boarish Bore

April 10, 2014

My fantasy love
I absorbed your profile
Never learned enough
Because a profile is all you keep
Buff and scruff
I found, those boys are pretty deep

So I followed you on home
Assuming you can’t hide in the place
where you come from
Met your mother, met your best friend
Here I thought, “he can’t pretend”
Stuck around for signs of life
Humane quirks, or never prior mentioned strife
But the introductions were way off
You should have said, “meet some people
who have only seen me tough.”

What were you like as a little kid?
Your mother proudly showed me pictures,
you were stiff.
With the same vacant expression,
Hoping for the end of more than just the photo session.
Or maybe that was my own interpretation
Knowing you, it was the look of a sober intermission.
Still, why didn’t personality form?
And how were you ever let into the norm?

High school football, player of the so-called “lover’s game”
Is that all there is to you, your claim to fame?
Your own mother knows nothing but statistics
Touchdown record, grade in physics.
Your best friend does nothing but
Say “whatup” and light up pot
Yet I was still so fascinated
By the lie I had created
That these were walls you had to build
So that you could play the field
Both athlete and lady-killer roles
Acquired by barring all things emotional

That’s the depth I had assigned to you
Now I know it isn’t true
And with that I need no more
Now I know you have no core
Something I’ve never seen before
So, I was succumbed by a boarish bore
You never know who you’ll care for.

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