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Treatise Traded for Tract

At one time, I so loved your lips
That I could overlook the cruel
Words which issue out of them,
And I so loved your dancing eyes
That I could try to see you as
The rebel who you said you were,
But time has passed and passion's
Ebbed. I freeze in fright (or is it
Hatred? How those two go hand
In hand, as we did once, but never
Mind) beside you at your parents'
Table, beggared, not by lack of
Food, but lack of social integration.
I don't own a polo shirt, and my
Car doesn't peel and purr. I haven't
Made it yet into a comfy cube, from
Which I place my bets on teams
I've never seen, and I believe, as
You asserted, that the beaten
Folks, who haunt the rooms
Around my own, should be here
Now, to take their portions. You,
I know, have changed your mind,
And gelded, amid gilt, have gone
From rebel back to daddy's darling,
Echoing his cruel words with
Such once-lovely lips.

poem by Lawrence Beck
Added by Poetry Lover
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