Impossible mission to sleep on opposite side of marital bed...

Oddly enough even

when frolicking in the autumn mist
with seasoned super tramping

cheaply tricked out goo goo dolls
some resembling Indigo Girls,
one foo fighting beastie boy
unable to adjust snoozing
on the left bedside.

Don't ask me why,
cuz we (all the barenaked ladies

who gifted me

with their uncommon

sense and sensibility) did make

a conscientious effort and try

behind closed doors to pry

ourselves loose from convention

impossible mission to modify behavior

indelibly etched in consciousness

since being knee-high,

each of us sought safety secured
snuggled in the bosom of mommy dearest
in an effort to thwart the bogeyman,

whose breastworks did protect and electrify

with severe shock

aforementioned unwanted intruder.

Even as an older kid shelter sought
against adversity climbing into bed
particularly our favorite parent's side

to skedaddle away from wild things

roam'n the hallways
nightmarish creatures prowled
even bravest in the family did dread

of course when lights flicked on
they (scary fiends) fled,

no matter monsters

solely residing in the head,

especially if male offspring

sung at length about courtesy

Eminem and Rihanna
and christened Jed

(which from the Hebrew

translated means beloved of god)

the second or "blessing" name

given by God

through the prophet Nathan

in infancy to Solomon,

second son of

King David and Bathsheba,

whose steely mettle

exemplary existence he led

I prized, honored, coveted,

et cetera his as a newlywed,

when me and the missus our troth we pled

unwaveringly, unstintingly, unhesitatingly,

and unconditionally accepted

the marriage vows read

to us courtesy Henry J. Schireson

a Pennsylvania magisterial district judge

for Montgomery County Magisterial District

nevertheless yours truly

violated sacred covenant,

and traipsed, tiptoed, and tallied

with weed wacker through the tulips

(analogous for illicit extramarital liaisons),

where angels feared to tread.

Courtesy William Congreve's

'The Mourning Bride' (1697) I quote

"Heaven has no rage

like love to hatred turned,

nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned."

The permanent contra dance partner

accepted viz justice of the peace

legal asseveration as thee wife

July twenty twenty fifth

nineteen ninety six
none to pleased to discover visa vis

her husband prided himself

on discreet rendezvous,

which multiple escapades

donning Lothario role,
nevertheless found yours truly

inexplicably witnessing himself,

albeit non verbally communicating

courtesy tactile pillow talk

while I situated myself

er lied supinely as Phil Anderer
on the right side facing

nexus, lexus and lectus

which last mentioned word

could be single bed for one person

or double for a couple;

sometimes made of bronze

and often made of wood

and decorated with moldings

of mother of pearl or bronze,

and animal-like legs:
the more simple ones

constituted of terracotta.

Said aforementioned experience

being Casanova went awry

major adjustment to appease
and whet appetite of paramour
lost moxie to do the wild thang

after premature ejaculations

plus fount of endearments went dry

guilt riddled conscience

(people who have been chosen

from the general public

to listen to the facts about a crime)
dick read hung jury
namely cuz intercourse consummated,

which unbridled coital fricassee

clamored to alleviate celibate state,
an August occasion even

during dead of winter ~2010
frisky antics betook me,
(who convinced married gal
I met thru Craigslist personals)
to infamous “cock rock”
at Valley Forge National Park
schlepping over and across
knee deep ice and snow,

one horny goat

to attain orgasmic Harris fulfillment

didst precariously vie.

Although adultery, cupidity,

felicity, infidelity, et cetera
undermined, ostracized husband,

hijacked harmony, and

aggravated twenty seven years

of potential wedded bliss
(even harder to bring to fruition
than conceiving offspring),
neither the missus nor myself
(the mister re: man, an android at heart)
could not succumb to our slumbers
baiting, counting, dreaming

of electric sheep futile

upon testing, jump/kickstarting,
experimenting, et cetera
whereupon I lied supine upon
the left side (facing the bed),
and she attempted
to await the dream weaver
comfortably sprawled out
on the right side,
yet both of us wide awake
after the bewitching hour,
henceforth we resigned ourselves
as creatures of habit
to reclaim zzz land territory.