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My Mother Was Right About You

My mother was right about you.
So was my sister.
At a tender age,
A bosom friend
Is quickly found,
But on what basis?

I would never
Have selected one
Such as you today.
On that day,
Which is so far gone
In my memory
That I fail
At every turn
To recall your origin
In my life,
You sucked me in.

You haven't always
Been around
Or been sleeping around.
That much is certain.
But when exactly
Did we join hands
As close friends?

Your "bad influence"
Only haunted me
Once when I was young.
I've forgotten why,
But I recall
Myself standing alone
One morning
On stage right
In a conspicuous interior corner.
I saw you bound toward me
And knew I'd been foolish
To even think
One thing in my head
Could change everything.
It is likely
I'd forgotten why
I'd craved escape
Before the day was over.

You didn't take
The hint then,
And yesterday was
No different.
I spoke coldly,
Asked questions,
Though I'd not seen you
But had heard too much of you
That made me sick,
And I had long since
Ceased to care for you.

In your eyes,
We'd been apart an hour
And all was the same.
In a desolate field
In my mind,
I was ready to
Bury all connection to you.

But for whatever reason,
I can’t throw you
Completely away.

No, I don't often
Think of you.
When I do,
It troubles me.
It depresses me
That,
As a child,
I was so unforseeing
And a bad judge
Of personality
To have selected you
To giggle with.

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