Oh, her?


    The affair ended,

    teaching me about women,

    they will disappoint.

    No matter,

    they're all the same,

    what was her name?


    We talked late in August,

    at her kitchen table,

    lemonade in hand,

    I heard about him,

    and everyone else

    on the planet.

    I wasn't buying it.

    "You call these five years an infatuation?

    Well, lady, the numbers just don't add up!"


    I may have knocked over a glass,

    or a chair, as I stomped out,

    ---no woman does this to me!


    And true to my gender

    I cannot remember her,

    except for wayward tears

    on her rose-fade lips

    as she turned...leaving me there

    on the kindergarten steps.


    Nice, Oxy!

    Five is far too young
    to have a "faire l'amour", but
    hearts must be broken.


    Thanks, Flavius and Mr. Smith.

    Absurd projections upon HRC by men, not here, of course, but on other websites, got me thinking about ths poem which I wrote a while back after a disastrous infatuation with a woman. It cost me a marriage.

    The object of my psychotic infatuation had Munchausen by proxy squared by virtue of the fact that she herself was a doctor, facts in plain view---but the whole point is that  nothing about this episode was about her, but about me, and I'm the rare man who projected (projects) essential emotions upon an attractive and successful woman.

    In terms of the actual flashback, I soon got over being left at the kindergarten altar because my new teacher was, pretty---in fact, "Pretty" was her name. Yes, Miss Pretty. And she was that, flaming red hair and all.


    "It cost me a marriage." - but think about what you gained!!! Fans at Dagblog!!!

    For that, I'd easily toss out the girl in the cute skating outfit, or the one at the pool who asked me if I liked her. Adolescence is there to burn, not to cherish, and I did it with flourish.

    Though even Munchausen seemed to suffer some regrets - what's up with that?

    Peracles, I have gained much here. Wouldn't trade it for a cheap thrill.

    But, perhaps I am the one with Munchausen Syndrome since I present such weird stuff. So still projecting.

    Technically, in what's her name's case, it's called "Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy", habitually presenting your kid to medical specialists, etc., especially strange when the presenter is also a doctor.

    I wonder what ever happened to her. Oh, forget her.


    I thought you were the Munchausian Candidate, what with all these troubled vague memories...

    The Munchausen Candidate---you nailed it. I was. And It is possible that I'm loaded right now.

    Actually, the Candidate and his muscle sat down next to us at at restaurant in Kowloon. My buddy, well loaded, goes over and asks if he'll belt out a song. Don't have to tell you the reaction he got.

    Should have asked Susie Wong instead - always eager to please. Anyway, Kowloon, what'd you expect? More down to earth in Wan Chai. At least it was - hear it's all full of mainlanders now. Time moves on.

     I remembered we were at anchor in the harbor, the ship being the USS Paul Revere.. You know the captain is always piped off ship to a small boat by a bosan's mate, in this case, a kid from Kentucky. So when the captain left the ship for a night out, the loudspeakers screamed,  "PAUL REVERE---LEAVING THE SHIP---FOR CALHOUN"!

    Lucky he didnt announce Daniel Boone for Calhoun. 

    Tho I also remember getting in a cab to go to Lamma Dao (Lamma Island, or at least the ferry) where all the foreigners lived, and the driver couldnt understand me. I mean, if anyone from Anaheim pronounces anything close to "Disneyland" Im pretty sure a cabbie could understand. Okay, Dao had one of 7 possible tones, but still...

    I think they do that in New York.

    "No. It's Airport, not Westport."


    Yes I love this Oxy, it's wonderful!

    Thanks very much, tmc.

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