I’m watching some guy show off his digs on, ("digs" was formerly "manse")
you know, one of those house-beautiful shows.
He’s in late middle-age and very rich;
the house by itself must be worth five mil.
He shows us the pool, the deck, the game room
(which he calls his “man cave” — how original),
but there’s something hollow about the glitz.
What good is a mansion when you’re all alone?
But he’s not alone. At the end of the show
he pulls a willowy girl to his man-side.
He smirks and she grins, and all I can wonder
is how much she’s getting in the pre-nup.
Now, if that were me, I’d pull a boy to
my side — if they’d allow it on TV
(gays can marry now, you know). Sadly, though,
I’m not rich, and I’m very much alone,
and I don’t know any boys. But I can dream.
Internet porn will be my boy; the toilet,
my game room (as it’s always been); and this
month-to-month fag cave must be my house
(the small apartment where my spirit boils).
Oh, I did know a boy with a hairlip scar, ("a hairlip scar" was formerly "ADHD")
but he laid down the law when I made a move;
it takes more than a meal to buy a spouse.
-end-
I wish there were more gay people participating here.