First time my father overheard me listening to
This bit of music he asked me
"what is it?"
"it's called Love For Three Oranges,"
I informed him
"boy," he said, "that's getting it
Cheap."
He meant sex
Listening to it
I always imagined three oranges
Sitting there
You know how orange they can
Get
So mightily orange
Maybe Prokofiev had meant
What my father
Thought
If so, I preferred it the
Other way
The most horrible thing
I could think of
Was part of me being
What ejaculated out of the
End of his
Stupid penis
I will never forgive him
For that
His trick that I am stuck
With
I find no nobility in
Parenthood
I say kill the Father
Before he makes more
Such as
I