like the story of Hercules.
Represented by Courage and Glory,
Masculinity and Strength,
Pleasure and virtue.
Chosen by light, and
offered one of two lives.
like the womanizer Don Juan
So ideal to love a woman,
To kiss her like we mean it
and we do,
or we want to.
I'm perfect like the bathroom mirror.
It hasn't got a bump or crack.
Every edge is straight
just the way the carpenter made it.
Divine glass framed and revered
chaliced for all to behold
casing a reflection.
A reflection, so much, like my fathers.
I'm perfect like the tiles on my bathroom floor,
kind enough to be impartial,
hard as stone,
friendly as a welcome mat.
Accepting of my bumps and cracks,
of my flimsy legs and weak stomach
I'm perfect like my brother's sweater.
The one I wear to bed.
The dirt caked, musty smell of man
like conversion therapy.
I'm prefect like the serpent of the tree.
Twisting truths from my lies
Toiling lies into hopes
to make oneself believe
that of the two lives
I choose the one most traveled...
...but I was never given that choice.