deepundergroundpoetry.com
girl by girl
she thinks about the hardcore absurdities of sex, the Wehrmacht tango
of taking a girl for a lover, as if it were Sunday in Munich.
she likes her men hard, but sometimes she wants to be the cruel one,
to burn a girl, red-haired & temptable, with the same fire that a man
strikes in her.
if she went out with a woman, she could wear what’s comfortable, not an
outfit that’s tight on her ass & accentuates her breasts, designed for the
curious male. because a woman knows what you’ve got & wants it anyway.
where Sappho traversed, there she would go. the loosener of limbs…
bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable creature. her heart would break for sorrow &
joy, had been broken, & would break again, for love. she would allow herself
away from that gritty agony, however briefly, in the arms of her girl lover.
simply, she wanted to caress her gypsy-haired seductress, to kiss her pretty
lips, & continue on across the pensive terrain of her flesh, all of her, until
she knelt at the altar of her ankles; adoring, & being adored. it was not the
fantasy of falling in love: it was the fantasy of not falling in love.
upon a plain white bed that they could wrinkle & wet without embarrassment,
she could gaze into her lover’s eyes when they’ve abused each one’s sexual
parts, euphoric by her side, cheek upon cheek, the tousles of their hair tangled
in a beautiful mess.
it would be an absence of absurdities, brash & liquid & contemptible;
it would be Sunday in Munich.
till she’s ready for a man again…
(Artist unknown)
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