I was a child
and you
9 years my senior
when you invited me
into your bed.
And I stayed,
but only to sleep
and you understood
and held me
like a father holds
his daughter.
And as time passed
I did more in your bed
than just sleep
and at the moment,
it felt right.
But now I see-
It wasn't.
I was searching
for my beloved father
in the corners of this town
a country away from him
and you were clinging
to the youth
you were too old to own.
And we found each other
and momentarily
I was happy
until one day I realized
you spoke down to me
like a child
and offered the
unsolicited advice
of a worried parent.
And then I was the worried one.
I will write his story until I can sleep again, until his smell is washed clean from my memory and I can feel assured that his name will never show up on my caller ID again because one father, *my* father, is enough.