How easy to mock,
Other people’s priorities.
But a taste for beauty and order
Isn’t really a thing to mock —
For much in life is terrible or chaotic,
And even more is, in the last analysis,
Problematic, and unsolvable.
So, those who add something
To peace, or joy, or wellbeing,
What exactly’s in a meat loaf?
I am sure that I don’t know.
Maybe some ingredients?
Still, it seems quite apropos
To serve it with brussels sprouts –
Those two things both mysteries –
One: I’m not sure what it is;
Two: I don’t know who likes these
If I could,
I’d make it right —
But I’m afraid
I’d make it wronger first
Now I’ve been married many years,
But I can still recall
The torture that is dating, and
The wonder of it all
So many times, I’d try to do
And be the best I’m able,
Only to see my date appalled
Across the dinner table
I’m glad I never saw myself
As I seemed to some eyes;
Although, exactly how I looked
I’m sure I could surmise
For dating is a simple thing:
We look for one who’ll say
That though we are imperfect, they
Still want us anyway
And about whom, we feel the same.
There’s really no more to it:
But it’s tortuous for those
Who still choose to
Go through it
One of them is made of grain
And frees you (briefly) from all pain;
The other one is made from grapes
And offers you some (short) escapes
But come the morning, I have found
The headaches much the same:
You might wake up with someone and
Not quite be sure
It may come as a surprise to women
That men have body image issues, too:
We’ve seen the covers of your books,
The films you like, the guys you crush on
And many of you are more
Detail-oriented than we are,
Seeking more perfection
Which we are well aware we don’t have
Do we look okay?
Do we smell okay?
Are we doing this right?
We ask ourselves the same questions –
Reading is like running –
Only for those
Who would know the elation
Of going the entire