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Three Oranges

 first time my father overheard me listening to
this bit of music he asked me,
"what is it?"
"it's called Love For Three Oranges,"
I informed him.
"boy," he said, "that's getting it cheap.
" he meant sex.
listening to it I always imagined three oranges sitting there, you know how orange they can get, so mightily orange.
maybe Prokofiev had meant what my father thought.
if so, I preferred it the other way the most horrible thing I could think of was part of me being what ejaculated out of the end of his stupid penis.
I will never forgive him for that, his trick that I am stuck with, I find no nobility in parenthood.
I say kill the Father before he makes more such as I.
from ONTHEBUS - 1992

by Charles Bukowski
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