I don’t actually need to feel anything at all

except that I live on an undulating plane

among artists

It’s a middle ether of baby’s breath and sprigs

of little cuntfaces under violet lights

and I do expect to be applauded

if I say this with aplomb

So can you please

give me a compliment today

starting with you are

You are not much of a caretaker

Blue angel of unctuous balm

I don’t know why I try

my charlatan captives at your desk

and talk to you about intellectual things

Blue angel

you’re like a worldly older girl

who took me on Spring Break

and locked me in a tower

with a Real World cast member

Why do we still use the language

of Feudalism

on the internet

An icon

I’ve always lacked volition

I could never choose one over another

I’m self-taught at being liked

so I don’t have to choose who to like

There’s so much affection in me to give

to the person I pity the most

A woman told me once

that she’d always been intact

Her femininity was a perfect seashell

wearing red cowgirl boots

and dragging a feather boa on the ground

I’m skeptical but not altogether

ruling it out

I can’t read the signs fast enough

so I don’t drive my own car

When I’m with a man I feel

like a gay man

When I’m with a woman I feel

like a gay man who is into women

And I only feel truly fabulous

in the presence

of someone less girly

This is my romance with gender

I play it with semiotic excess

in long seasons

I silent act and forget sometimes

to come out