having the sex talk

i remember

sitting my son down to have

the agonizing

sex talk.

he was young,

maybe twelve at the time.

a shaggy dog

kind of a kid.

he sat there patiently

slapping

a baseball into his

glove.

i rubbed my face

and forehead,

and struggled for the words.

son,

i said.

and he put his hand out

to stop me.

dad, is this the sex

talk?

i said, well, yes. your

mother wanted

me to tell you about

the birds

and the bees.

then he proceeded to tell

me about

my wife,

and the butcher 

and the milkman.

(apologies to Rodney Dangerfield)