I walk into your house, a friend.

Your kids swarm up my steep hillsides

Or swing in my branches. Your boy rides

Me for his horsie; we pretend

Some troll threatens our lady fair.

I swing him squealing through the air

And down. Just what could I defend?

I tuck them in, sometimes, at night.

That’s one secret we never tell.

Giggling in their dark room, they yell

They love me. Their father, home tonight,

Sees your girl curled up on my knee

And tells her “git”—she’s bothering me.

I nod; she’d better think he’s right.

Once they’re in bed, he calls you “dear.”

The boobtube shows some hokum on

Adultery and loss; we yawn

Over a stale joke book and beer

Till it’s your bedtime. I must leave.

I watch that squat toad pluck your sleeve.

As always, you stand shining near

Your window. I stand, Prince of Lies

Who’s seen bliss; now I can drive back

Home past wreck and car lot, past shack,

Slum and steelmill reddening the skies,

Past drive-ins, the hot pits where our teens

Fingerfuck and that huge screen’s

Images fill their vacant eyes.