The Madness of Men

I heard from three men in March and the search for meaning is on.  It takes three to get me drunk.  Death happens in threes.  Three is the magic number.  Each one unearthed the madness of wanting them entirely at different stages of my life.  They fearlessly made promises by professing illusions.  Talk about fear of commitment.  My exit strategy was sloppy, sad, and full of rage.  A typhoon crashing into a Beach Boys listening party.  Nothing is real when I'm stumbling, but Tom Collins was a boy once.  That's what I tell myself again and again and again.