When my ex left, our youngest was
But three years old – alas –
So I would take him daily to
A little pre-k class
The girl who worked there was so young
But seemed to like the way
I’d sit with him – and other kids –
Beginning every day
So, finally, I asked her out
And she said that she would
So I drove out to get her
When she said it would be good
And she came out to meet me
Well before I’d left my car;
And it struck me, so I asked her
Before I had gone too far
Exactly just how old she was
“Um, twenty” – her head hung —
She looked up, her eyes pleading
Asking if that was too young
“Oh, no, no – you’re age suits you”
That was all I thought to say
But I knew I wouldn’t go on
Any further in this way
So post-dinner, I told her
Gently, how much fun I had
And then I took her back home
To her mother and her dad
And said, “I will not lie to you:
I will not call again,
But if I may, I’d like to say
To you now, as a friend:
You’re beautiful and charming,
And if ages weren’t in play,
I’d probably want to call you
From the end of the driveway.”
But she was not placated
As we both felt something strike:
The pain of liking someone
Who it is
Just wrong
To like
