don’t look black and blue, angel, for me
we don’t just come from another planet
we come from another history,
cool the water temperatures with my tongue
having seen the light; he’s so handsome,
i’m going to beat this woman to a pulp
she never loved where I’m calling from
take it easy, laxative Lucy, with a gulp
I imbibe forever in my own way
All this traffic went through my throat
half of it, now, shall live to this day
no need at all for a child scapegoat
Nevertheless, i’ll find your rear end
pushing my music into your back,
you’ll read the email I’m bound to send
thinking, mainly, i’m under attack . . .
Unquiet mind—His love goes askew
He thought, once, that he’d string us along
doing to others—but nobody we knew
my love, it seems, is forthright and strong
making this life a handful of joy, enough
dear heart, for the monster to employ
Now forgive me, He’s writing off the cuff,
i can’t believe you hate the things i destroy
I am the president you reconnoiter
mounted on horseback, miserable soul
transition, then, to the woman you prefer
hormone therapy, lo, is my goal
kick them while they’re down, mess them
up—the future i foresaw, down that drain
think of the insanity from which I stem
When i die, sweetheart, will I feel pain?
My lover, i think, looks nothing like me:
there’s nothing, lass, for you to shame
You are what you are—bent for free
thinking, necessarily, that we are game
Why else would you appear in this my life
a quest for answers—and salvation, no doubt
Everyone is forgiven white-knuckled wife
i was looking forward to that wee beansprout