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when I was nineteen
and I kissed a boy
and it got out
that I was a maid
and he was a hero
I spent a sleepless year
choosing between love and respect
and when I became quite
the pillar of respectable
I thought, its different now
with all the contretemps
that determine my value
affixed in place
I gained enough weight
to cull out any remaining
variables
and then and then and then
times then
I realized it is
the cardinal rule of life
he will always be the hero
she will always be the temptress
and/or the maid
no matter where I go
