Making Friends

You meet and shake hands Things seem fine, real grand You're married; so are they You all work for your pay He's a dentist; she's in social work Professionals, not lowly clerks Then you notice their kids. They're strange, a bit weird One wakes up after noon; another has a full beard Of course, your first two divorced; they take after you The next two -- idiosyncratic: Are you that way too? When you visit their home, their kids are all raging Yelling and screaming, constantly upstaging Their parents, who'd once seemed so engaging And when they return the favor, your oldest just sits He stares into space, picks at buttons and zits As the other texts like mad, anything to Avoid talking to friends of Mom and Dad You view them as parents now, and what do you see? A pair of losers whose kids run wild and free And when they look at you, they see something similar too A couple of failures whose kids drive them cuckoo It's time to go; you smile and shake hands once again Half-heartedly agree to another date, but when? Who has time these days? "We'll get back to you." As you silently stew: How'd it all come unglued?