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Sufi Style<BR><BR>
<a href='delicious.php?PHPSESSID=fd34b94f1d198560220d2587d472083a'>delicious</a><BR>
<a href='nutritious.php?PHPSESSID=fd34b94f1d198560220d2587d472083a'>nutritious</a><BR>
<a href='archives.php?PHPSESSID=fd34b94f1d198560220d2587d472083a'>archives</a><BR>the other children never had a chance
<BR>
to taunt, to tease, to torture,
<BR>
for we were, one in the same;
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we were all immune
<BR>
to the dysfunction and immorality
<BR>
that may have plagued us
<BR>
in the outside world,
<BR>
or the world outside;
<BR>
a glare well known to mommy--
<BR>
throughout the aisles of
<BR>
groceries, of
<BR>
parent-teacher nights, of
<BR>
little league games--
<BR>
but not to son;
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beneath our feet,
<BR>
the streets welcomed us with the
<BR>
same lush red velvet aire of royalty,
<BR>
of normalcy;
<BR>
it was our world, and
<BR>
it was right;
<BR>
daddies were suposed to disappear,
<BR>
and with complete propriety,
<BR>
ours had;
<BR>
mommy had shaped our reassurance,
<BR>
but nature preserved it,
<BR>
preserved us, and
<BR>
served us to an unaccepting world
<BR>
lost to us in their own dysfunction
<BR>
of parental duality,
<BR>
of two point five children,
<BR>
of a house, and a lawn,
<BR>
of pure banality;
<BR>
a life as equally as
<BR>
unknown as unwanted
<BR>
to the children borne to singularity;
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for in the end
<BR>
the days were young,
<BR>
as were we, and
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mommy never let us forget that.
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