Italian
and leather tough,
a mafioso old school
mustache
across his
scarred face,
asked me what my
intentions
were with his daughter,
i cringed.
my heart began
to palpitate.
my tail went between
my legs
and i may have peed
a little.
well, i gulped, with
my tongue tied
mouth. and dry throat.
my intentions are to
marry her.
which we both knew
wasn't
true, at least not now
at the age of
twenty.
jobless with a silly
hair cut
and still living at home.
then he leaned over
and put his gorilla
hand on
my shoulder
squeezing fiercely as
he smiled
and said,
don't get her pregnant,
okay?
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