Being at peace and soothing,
not embraced as wise,
can I warn her of boys
when she sees my bad
happenings with girls?

I fear the lady grown
but not grown who thinks
me a joke,
older than airplanes.

She lives here, but I
am no better than boards
in the roof, a stick man
wishing her a good day.
Every day.

I want to be the guru
who teaches her
about loving human beings,
but I am dead fish to her.

I want to show her
how patience works
so beautifully in my life,
but she does not have
enough to sit with me.

She calls me Buddha man,
but I am merely
a recovering alcoholic.
I hope she doesn’t drink
like I did. I pray about that.