Be good

“Be good” those are always
my father’s parting words.
And so I will.
Just like that.
That man has
a girlfriend at home.
She can’t see me
but trust me,
she’d hate me.
I won’t kiss him.
He won’t bury
his head into my collar.
One drink after another
won’t alter that.
I’ll think how she’d
feel if she saw us now
and it’ll change how I act.
I’d be so good.
The next day and I’m sick;
disgusted, ashamed, hungover.
The orally wedged
pubic hair tells
another story.
Curly black hair, extracted
I’ll be good now,
just like that.

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