I don’t know what she’s thinking, circles and star wand
waving speaks volumes but not to me
because probably, I don’t know what it does
or did, garble roaring from beyond and behind recalling
poison prejudice and misting it around, but that’s only me
living in past fantasy short stories I scribbled
on bathroom walls, but prison shower brawls
are titilating so never mind because that’s what ignited
all of my phallus fulcrum tilting face first
into fantasy, so maybe that’s her too, maybe.
Her name was Samantha.
I describe what I am as parts and pieces missing,
that’s all there is really and you’re all just weird
about it, no never mind is more than I’ll go, thinking over
what quote unquote nature puts as my outline
in this reality but it’s only rules, so they can fuck me
over with a penis, but I am what I am and that’s all
that I am a woman is all that I know and I can’t
live this way anymore so I won’t, and that’s all they need
to know, is that I am a woman, and have ever been.
His name was Jeremy
Jeremy and Samantha burning lake of laughter
fuels a fire, an ignition inferno expanding and licking
all the lips, in and out shimmy shammy and they both loved
the inner body, licking his and her arteries exploring
each and every option of all possible permutations,
but then he discovered what she used to be and he laughed
and said that he knew, and that they should do
what they were made to do and so they did.
They made love and it was cool.