Faline The Doe



The liberal
Says “find the seeker’s path” from his vantage point
Of being high on the unknown
Saying that we are all flawed, and we are all seekers
Of the unworthy, the salacious
When he is only abused by the power
Of wanting to rule over
What his neighbor doesn’t want.

And I, the moralist
Do not want to find that, the finder’s fee
Is a drunken one night stand, or an affair
With a 22 year old student
Who laughs at all the jokes
I make in class or the nerdy 30 something
Woman, with round buttocks, who sends an invitation
Wrapped in red ribbon, as she bends down to pick
Up what slips from her fingers

I choose not to stray
Not to kill the doe with a rifle
Not to mount on walls of memory
Her perfect antlers, as a trophy,
Of age, and perhaps wasted youth;
Just to acquiesce to vulture-like liberal eyes
Haunted with the primal fear of one man’s
Absence of regret or doubt
Of the road not taken…..

The one filled with fragrant roses.

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