Surely there are more momentous things to worry about.
Autism. Attention Deficit Disorder. Tuberculosis. Gayness?
They crept in closer, concerned. Worried. Surf pounding.
All this ocean, what is our son up to. Chronic masturbation?
An opening in the tent revealed him -- in all his fullness.
They had seen that same devilish grin before, in the library.
Immersed in the page at hand, thumb ready to flip to the next
he turned, saying to them, Do you have nothing better to do?
They didn't. It's Dickens again, Dad said, sighing in the wind.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016