I don’t miss
A stranger’s warmth, all the scandalous
Myths around one nights stands
And rendez-vous in cheap motel rooms.
I’m not one for concubines or de-facto, as law claims
The contractless partnerships.
I will never fill pockets of flesh-lined
Compartments of a graceful gender
Just to score or to tick a mark
On pages of my absent history.
It baffles me that people do not
See the road not taken was never an option
It was just a path with noxious weeds
In the absence of abundant harvests
I do miss a little thing or two though
In plain hindsight. What would have made my life perfect,
Are a bigger pair of buttocks
And lush D-cups paraded by my wife’s
Still plentiful boastings.
After all, I only searched for perfection
Not in the numeracy of a gender
Only in one woman’s anatomy.
