Even So, She Hates me

 once, guy, sick, parade, television, landlord, moonbeam, success, anatomy, kicking, real, pilgrim 

you thought once, mother

that i'd end up with some French guy.

you'd be sick in the States, and i'd be overseas, happily ignorant.

you thought i'd throw a parade to be free from you - and i did, in my own way.

he and i, we'd have no television, just books
and no landlord, just a cottage we'd fix up

we'd collect moonbeams, planting them in our garden.

we would celebrate our success without you, the sky would be the limit

we'd discuss anatomy and other taboo topics, 

after he'd felt the bebe kicking

but not to be. not to be. for this is what's real:

your daughter is neither pilgrim nor prodigal, but every bit as disappointing.