Pacing Aisles

Wonder if he acts like my father
No, more like how your mother falters
Wonder if he looks too much like Bride
Oh, would the altar say it?
Wander if his dirty socks crystallizes
Love in athlete foot lava
Leaving only stable cleavages of stone
Wander if his puppy barks
With the harshness of awkward hertz
Or if the pup is black
And fades into the night
He may lift the veil to the dull luster
Of my bat eyes and think he sees me
There slowly stuttering over vows
When I am summoning daddy Engels
to speak his deep-pitched dharma
To ask the man if I ought to step off
This auction block
But the man speaks no more
Damned to wait, wade, wane, do I?
Do I? I DO.