All of the college girls
are home
for summer
and I plan
to impregnate them all
to save us both
from the circular conversations
about backpacking in Europe
and where to live
and if grad school is a good idea
and how to “just live” for a while.
I plan to impregnate them all
so we can have “what if?” conversations
for at least eighteen years more,
without possibility of action or change,
and when the time finally comes
we will be so bored with the ideas
there will be little left talk about
as we welcome the silence.
All of the college girls
are home
for the summer
and I plan
to impregnate them all,
full moon rising over fields,
the scent of corn
and green beans
sweet in our nostrils.
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