Boy Toy
Stop it
Stop it!
Stop chasing guys
it’s disgusting!
when I was seeking attention
when I was needing approval
like, how was it so disgusting I was
eighteen and
talking about guys one would have
thought
was the supreme way to bond talking about
beautiful guys
like “Yes,
I’m a huge fan of the guys”
not sisterly disdain
so distasteful
cunt
fucking
jesus what is the
matter with you that’s disturbed behavior
you have a sickness
and I did
all of us sickos
like when I was hanging with Clyde
and she was needing attention and I
would
put on my steamiest guy shades and give
it
like when I was listening to darling
Véronique
succumb under sadness I shed my skin
became a manwoman to tell her how
gorgeous she
and how one of a kind and yes, it would
hurt
but hurt was a limited edition
like coke with lime
instead of vanilla or
cherry, their staples
like when I was pretending things were
business as usual with Willow
when they clearly weren’t but neither
knew how to lose the awkward
not talking about it manly and
heartbreaking
like when I was doing myself in the
morning and the dove cooed,
diligently, in the still bare maple
while I was at it
like when I was remembering good times
like when I was certain I had love in my
back pocket but
it was really a mirage
like when I was being redirected towards animal
animal
animal
animal, an anomaly
in life and life expectancy, and the
mere gift of thought
was such I needed no further instruction
like when I was hiking my hike trail and
the lake was a brilliant onyx and lapis
lazuli,
opaque and glasslike, the waves were
crashing very slowly and moving like
thick, brilliant concentrate
and instead of being afraid I was
aroused by them,
their secret the secret of the moon and
the starting spring, and even my rubber
boots
making wet sounds as I proceeded across
the marshland felt sensual, like I was
being reborn
in that shoreline as a sex goddess
in my flannel shirt and bluejeans
Yankees cap and Roxy Music in headphones
sex goddess of the rural North
moving in the marshes towards the bluff
my lace panties wet between my legs
no one would think I was wearing
under the blue late afternoon sky
sex goddess reconnecting with nature
after hardships and failure, coming into
my own
delivering my body from hellfire into
pleasure,
and
about time, too.
Sadness doesn’t create long nor does it
ever
become lifeforce more than a mouthful
Desire is a limitless well of energy.

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