lackluster endings bend kinks that crease
but they were
lost in the lust for scraped backs and knees,
and she would
never say no
long as he'd
never say please,
and they would
never mention scars,
or intentions,
or disease.
and with the ease at which the so called passion turned to hypodermic fashion,
he would leave only a note,
'be careful: needles in the trashcan."

he knows
which fork is meant for salad.
and
he knows
the difference
between 'good scotch'
and 'swill.'
he knows
mother dearest
frequently naps
and he knows
daddy dearest
hasn't yet had his fill.
he knows
what its feels like
to look down from above.
but baby boy dearest
knows not
what it is
to be loved.