Try not to, with a Catholic girl. That’s what
I tell the guys, the young ones like yourself.
That is, try not to at all. See, I’m learning.
But especially not with a girl who’s under age
and whose parents are very Catholic so she’s not on the Pill.
She might have the thing and then where will you be?

They did not press charges, not that first time.
I was the dad, after all, and said as much.
Am the dad, I mean. Though no one’s ever
used the word dad. Who else’s could it be, though?
Everyone knew she was a good girl
who came from a good Catholic family
and some of the gang had already been bragging
how a pal of mine who was in her biology class
switched her daily mood pill for another,
one that would make her drowsy. Or relaxed.
And since the punch was spiked, well, just a little,
everybody who was at that party
knew.

So why deny it? I am not that bad.
By the way, today there’s DNA.
So, anyway.

Today, that kid, my oldest
is just about to turn eighteen. Right. May.
And just when you think you’re finished shelling out—
I’ve been shelling out for eighteen years—there’s college.
And my parents have the money, so the kid
will get a free ride, all expenses paid,
on me! Well, on my parents, bless their hearts.
I don’t make enough, even double shifts,
steaming laundry plus patching old roads
with hot tar, even hotter than that steam.
Yes, I am definitely underpaid.
My cellmate’s good at math and figured out
that it would take me ten years just to cover
one year, and that’s only a state school.
And what if my other kids want college? Geesh.
Lots of Catholics in town, you understand,
so there’s a couple daughters too I haven’t
seen in years. Three pairs of pro-life parents.

It was the later parents who pressed charges.
Statutory, they called it. I mean, really.
Still, several counts, so I’ll be here awhile.

At least my room and board are free, but I
do miss the girls. The ladies. I am learning.
And by the way, I finally wised up
and started to check first and avoid girls
from Catholic families who may not press charges
but just might get the girl to have the thing.
I’ve learned. ’Cause doing time is bad enough,
but I cannot stand paying through the nose,
even though my parents are the ones
who’re paying, though I can’t imagine why.
I guess it’s what good Catholic families do.

—The guard who introduced us, I recall,
mumbled not just my name but everyone’s.
I didn’t make the trip to hear a story
but to announce that I’d be starting school
at Harvard in September. By the time
my time was up, I didn’t see the point.
What do you think? I’d really like to know.