The Three Men born September 6th

The first three guys I ever
lived with were born on September 6,
Patrick, Stuart and Rolf, an American,
a Welshman and a German.
By the third one, I wondered
whether I should take heed to
not date any men born on this date.
September 6th, the Day of Unpredictable
Fate doesn’t sound all that promising,
more like seeking happiness from
the same gutter from which I arose.
I’d rather seek a higher order of being,
so I married a man born on April 24th,
the Day of the Protective Chronicler, good
father material, I suppose, and
then one born March 20th, the Day of the
Labyrinth. A bad choice for someone
figuring their way out of their own maze
Now I am dating a man born May 2nd,
the Day of Human Observation.
A good choice, a wise observer of
my own human nature, observations
made with no judgement.
So far, so good.