'man' - Part Ii

I had a cat that marked his territory right into our TV – fried the whole thing But I will not graffiti my alleyways with crude phalli, Spewing armchair warrior slogans across the concrete My best friend growing up was a real whore, in the kiss-and-tell sort of way A real ladies’ man... He was a real bastard, I’ll tell you that But I will not line the walls of my den with taxidermied lovers Nor will I cage my dove for fear of a hawk. Does the absence of glimmering swords Take away from the radiance of her smile? And what good are these powerful minarets, Without the sweet, sweet song that echoes across them? I have not fallen in love with a fish in a bucket. I have not fallen in love with a fish in a bucket that will dart away Never to be seen, if she ever touches the sea again... Which raises the question: why the bucket? I have no interest in the bucket. I have no interest in being the fisherman. I bait no hooks and reel no lines. I would much rather be a sea horse. We can all learn a thing or two from the sea horse. So enough with this nonsense of honor and chivalry Enough of this predefined manliness and rhetorical dick-waving Enough of cages and lures and foxes in the chicken coop I see a lioness and her fawn under acacia shadows While my thirty-something year-old compatriot playboys Are on the prowl for pretty young things in search of a fantasy Wearing cravates of woven chest hair resting over shirts not quite buttoned, With Ralph the Polo Player getting bigger and bigger I have no fur coats, and I won’t sport any swag I have no car horn to honk at your skirts, No sly comments to mutter as you pass No scarves to force around your heads No honor to vest in your purity I have only my faith in love And whatever flaws that may bring So what is it then, to be a man?