Listen kid, Max’s father says,
All a broad wants is babies,
The rest is incidental, have a
Good look at them, see how
They’re built, they’re built
For breeding kids, nature’s
One concern the survival of
The species. Max looks at his
Father’s cigar that wags as
He talks, the smoke going up
In short bursts. And kid, don’t
Let them fool you with all that
Love talk, it’s just their yak to
Keep you sweet, and they want
Guys to get all gooey eyed when
The babies are around and expect
The dough handing to them to
Keep the kids, to keep them on
The way to growing up. Max nods
And remembers his mother yelling
At his father not to wake the baby,
You’re too heavy footed, you talk
Too loud, and that cigar smoke it’s
Everywhere. And kid, whatever you
Do don’t settle down too soon,
Don’t get trapped in the spidery web
Of a broad’s charms, don’t get too
Serious too soon, kid, hold out a little,
Run the field, find the cheap dames,
Give the serious motherly types the
Wide berth. Max blows a huge bubble
With his gum, his father’s words take
Wing around his ears like black bats
In evening flight. And kid, don’t let
Them tame you with their words and
Ways or haul you in with lines of woe and
Love needs; hold out as long as you can,
Don’t be like the rest of the wimps, be like
Your old man. Max nods and puts on his
Steely stare as his father drives off in his car.
When Max grows up, he wants to smoke a cigar.
A FATHER AND SON TALK. I NEVER TALKED TO MY SONS LIKE THIS.