I'm turning into my father
I am so much like him
Will I be 27 before I date again
I want to kiss my father
I want to hold his hand
We could trade secrets on which we'd let no one in
I want learn what I don't know about him
Which is no short order
We will be met with cold chipped shoulders
Encouraging us to stay our hands
They will say "Shhhhh! Don't be so loud!
Don't draw attention to yourself!
Don't talk with your hands!
Don't act like you like each other in public!
Don't stick out like sore thumbs!
What would we do if you raised the bar
On father/son relations
We'd look so bad!
We're already so sub par"
I do not know you half as well as I'd like
And we live so far away
We could trade stories
And uncover common hopes and neuroses
God, I am just like you, aren't I