My affections were incomprehensible.
Politically incorrect.
All wrong,

According to the onlookers.
We were all wrong.
All along,

According to the onlookers.

We knew we were all wrong
All along
According to our head butting

Laced with Pride,
Fear, Ego, Control,
As we puttered and sputtered our
way through a few years of memory making.

When we were not all wrong
However ,
We were

Really very alright
Floating down the river
listening to Mozart on the mountainside.
Babes fast asleep on my lap.
Bare feet hanging out of window

Summer winds billowing skirt

Of white cotton dress;

Buying balloons and ice cream,
Lost in a family fantasy
racing with the children in the park
Splashing with the children in the pool
Disney was our metaphor.
And every bit as real.

He was convinced I wanted him
to be a something we knew he was not.
I suspect we both really wanted Lassie to come fucking home.