My stepfather, in his wisdom
Claimed that though he had tried,
He had totally failed to see the
difference
Between myself and any cow.
And so as a child
I was a desirable object of pleasure,
In which he had found considerable
pleasure
To inflict pain.
He'd pinch me until
I looked like a tiger; thighs, arms and
all.
Pull my ears till they were red hot.
My nose too was pulled
I thought he envied Pinocchio.
But those days are all gone,
And gone too is the old man.
I now manage a dairy farm
As if to ridicule his wisdom.
