If You Tell Them What They Want

Felicity And I Watch The Dancers Moving As One. They Spin About Like The Earth On It's Axis, Enduring The Dark, Waiting For The Sun.

I’m Not Interested In Being Polite. It’s False.

But Sons Are A Different Matter To A Man. More A Duty Than An Indulgence.

On Tv, Talking Heads Wrung Their Hands Over A Lack Of Traditional Feminine Values And Wondered If Girls’ Sports Were To Blame. Then They Cut To A Commercial Featuring A Sexy College Coed Vacuuming Her Dorm Room In Her Underwear.

In A World Beyond This One, That River Goes On Singing Sweetly, Enchanting Us With What We Want To Hear, Shaping What We Need To See In Order To Keep Going. In Those Waters, All Disappointments Are Forgotten, Our Mistakes Forgiven. Gazing Into Them, We See A Strong Father. A Loving Mother. Warm Rooms Where We Are Sheltered, Adored, Wanted. And The Uncertainty Of Our Futures Is Nothing More Than The Fog Of Breath On A Windowpane.