I Do, I Did

The rose colored lenses have fallen striking the grown in slow motion. The dust it raises replaces them with tears that sting with everyday realities I never thought I would realize.

That little black girl whose voice spoke through black barbie and promised white ken that she would never go to bed angry and would cook and clean and iron, looks at grown size 10 me screaming at underemployed underpaid overworked always tired black man and wonders what happened to make believe...

When did the meadows become battlefields, roses landmines and words WMD's...? how is it that I even know what those letters mean? No kids or major bills and romance has still dissipated to rendezvous at Barnes and Nobles because your too tired for a date with your wife, but will stay up all night talking trash on Xbox Live.

Solo bus rides watching memories of us played out unknowingly by high schoolers dreaming of my pre-reality reality...and the memory still makes me smile all the while wondering...

since we haven't had enough time to become a couple resembling a glass of fine wine, How did I end up with such a bitter taste in mine....