Scraped
Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a son, a family. A wife? And so the problem. Who would marry me? Who would I have and hold? It is easier to imagine myself a rocking chair bachelor than this. Picture the morning's fishing, picture the garden. This is how I picture alone. And how I end. Returned to the earth, a history in the soil.
A history in the soil. The last son burried, a genetic footnote. How ridiculously sad that our generations will likely end with me buried, in a segergated symmetery in Georgia.
And I imagine I am not alone in this: father's sons who did not or could not and thus become a terminus, end of the line.
The generation that gave up. Divorced once and no more, married never, disillusioned one to many times or simply shamefully unfit to wed, remain wed and reproduce. I envy the illegitimate father and his baby mama potshot progeny.
If I were some other man I guess I would have got me a bastard or two to passs on the genetic marker or a better man would have railed harder against the son, daughter that was scraped into the past.
Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a son, a family. A wife? And so the problem. Who would marry me? Who would I have and hold? It is easier to imagine myself a rocking chair bachelor than this. Picture the morning's fishing, picture the garden. This is how I picture alone. And how I end. Returned to the earth, a history in the soil.
A history in the soil. The last son burried, a genetic footnote. How ridiculously sad that our generations will likely end with me buried, in a segergated symmetery in Georgia.
And I imagine I am not alone in this: father's sons who did not or could not and thus become a terminus, end of the line.
The generation that gave up. Divorced once and no more, married never, disillusioned one to many times or simply shamefully unfit to wed, remain wed and reproduce. I envy the illegitimate father and his baby mama potshot progeny.
If I were some other man I guess I would have got me a bastard or two to passs on the genetic marker or a better man would have railed harder against the son, daughter that was scraped into the past.