Seldom a great thought between them

their heads are empty

like bowling balls with three holes.

Ambition gets in their way

Their heads roll

as if notarizing signatures

with dull physiognomies.

I would rather watch

a bitch in black. She walks like a tigress

in spandex. I need to become a tiger too

to catch her tail

Why didn’t they teach me this in school?

All the useless classes

and my game is stranger than fiction

as I write this down.

“I need to have more courage,” I tell my mother.

“You have plenty of that,” she said. “Too much.”

“But I haven’t talked to any of these women…”

“Become Known.”

“I know…I know, but I just want to talk to them all. They’re so interesting!”

Time is torturing me with her laughter

I want to explore the female

to understand her love of books

as she crosses her legs

and reads

in the bookstore.

My 70-year-old parents give me advice

It probably didn’t work in the 70s.

The basic needs of man

eat away at his mind, his stomach, his…

never mind.

“You need to love a woman for more than her beauty,” my mother said.

“I know.”

The thing is

women are beautiful,

and they walk around, in plain sight.

Most beautiful things

don’t.

Women are a mystery.

When they grow old,

what happens to their story?

I want to know that

too

to memorize it,

so she is in my heart

forever.

4 thoughts on “Bowling Balls and Beautiful Women

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