Sunday, December 8, 2013

The Backup Plan

Someday, I hope my number
will be called for something else
beside greasy tragedy gumming
my works like tar,
far flung from being nice,
I wonder why the result is
the same lame maybes
and "I like you"s that fall
heavily on keen ears full well knowing
I'm bowing before the eunuch's blade

the man with no balls
can be trusted but he can't
be celebrated or respected,
nagging expectations pinned and braced
against the women's inevitable laughter
when this soldier grows bold
and tries to conquer,
knowing his window is open
only so slightly,
but why climb out when
one's fists end up clenched
tightly in the dark

Maybe this odyssey was meant
to be sailed alone since
validation only comes by luck
or if she's drunk
or if the day stunk
and I only got to be inside her
because it was convenient
it seems my destiny as a contingency
is steel coated and inevitable
remembered only on a bleeding vagina's
careful schedule

I can only hope to gain respect soon,
like a hidden island stumbled upon
like accidental treasure,
the pleasure lies quiet and elusive
someday hoping the hidden jewel
will hold equal measure with ethusiastically
charted but tarnished plunder
listed on her and all over their ledgers!

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