Size of a man’s imagination

Freshly ejected from a sea of body fluid,
Becoming undetached umbilically,
When it’s the size of a button mushroom,
He’ll look at all of you as his mother.
Give him some time to learn.
Learn language from sounds,
Feelings from touch.

In his third multiple of five,
When puberty begins to confront,
From places hitherto Sun hidden,
He would’nt look at all of you as his mother.
When it’s about the size of a puppy’s tail.
Give him some time to learn.
Learn expletives from language,
Female from male.

In his fourth multiple of five,
When it’s about the length of his palm,
Disobedient like a boisterous labrador,
He would look at all of you as his lovers.
The Sun rises from his navel,
And sets between his legs.
Give him some time to learn,
Learn to lech from look,
Stimulate from touch.

Between the fifth and eighth mutliple of five,
When it’s become a domestic appliance,
From the cool gadget it once you used to be,
Fatigued from myriad experiences,
He would look at only one of you as his wife.

Batting is still fun, but the strike rate isn’t there.
He now knows love from lust,
Insecurities from trust.

After his thirteenth multiple of five,
That is if he’s still around.
When it’s hung, shrunk and vestigial almost,
He would look at all of you as his daughter.
The game has become passe,
His upkeep has watered his impulses.
He’s collecting epiphanies from experiences,
Nostalgia from memories.

From a button mushroom,
To a puppy’s tail,
To palm length,
To a docile appliance
And being hung and shrunk,
It’s after all, not that hard to size up-
A man’s imagination.

 

 

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