I wish I was a better man. Wish I may….
I wish I was the kind of man that I see in magazines and TV; sporting rock hard abs, great hair, surrounded by happy, sexually satisfied women with wind blown hair; moist, pouty lips, perky breast and signing away their ex-husbands inheritance to me.
Tubby, smiling Pre-diabetic, bilingual children that like to write on walls, the paid off owner of a shiny car that goes 50 mph faster than advertised; 100 mph faster than my neighbors car;
I wish there was a freshly painted house with a medicinal pot farm in the cellar, green lawns that weren’t painted or have briars, snakes or my neighbors dogs crap.
Wish that there was cold, hard green cash in 100 $10,000 bundles that I found on the sidewalk next to a dead pimp.
A $25 a day pain med habit and nice golf slacks; the checkered kind that even looks good in bowling shoes.
I wish I was a make believe man instead of a real man.
I’m the kind of really, real guy that’s chock full of insecurities and vices; brimming over with self contempt and Xmas spirit.
I wish I was the kind of man my son’s are instead of the one they blame for everything.
I wish I was, what I wanted to be instead of what I’ve done.
I wish I was the kind of man that was forgiven as readily as I have forgave.
I wish, I was, I could have been but, settled for…
The realness of it all.
I wish I could fly.
I wish I wasn’t so fucking real, all of the time.
They never come true.