Disparity

She told me it was a boy even though I told her not to. It was her last great act of cruelty against me. Now I saw the future clearer than the morning air. I saw blue and baseball, suits and shaving, questions I'd forgot the answers to and words on girls a generation late. I saw myself and not myself, what I wanted him to be. And in that I saw what I wasn't. All the places I went wrong, all the ways is mucked it up. I saw her, as I saw her first. What I turned her into in my own mind, what was never there. I saw my own retaliation. And so she told me that it was a boy, so I could see him and myself, the great disparity between us, a past and future unlike any other.