We like to read poems by women
but why is that?
Surely not to discover yet another one
pissing and moaning about her fucked up love life
going back to that time when she was five
an area admittedly
where men tend to flounder unless they
can work in a way to talk about their cocks
which sends them to
such heights of ecstacy they oftimes neglect
to write it down at all. No we
are drawn to women, one suspects, because, well,
because they have none of our fears,
having been subjected
to tales of horror from the time they were little girls
about the pain of childbirth, the anguish
of true love, the intricasies
and dangers of frying chicken deep while trying to cope with
their crazed children who make no mistake
will be just that
crazy as hell and drive the guests mad on sunday
because that's just the way
the chicken hardens
in this world if you don't watch
your pees and cues and no matter what strange road
you end up setting out on
there is one abiding truth: a man can do lots of things
but when it comes to matters of the heart
to how it feels
when you get so hot your pussy begins to fart
there's not a one of them
who's been there and that's the greatest blessing of all
that no matter what they take from
you in this world
no matter how cruel and evil
they can be and no matter i say uhh
how pernicious uhh
and goddamn fucking silent and never answer you back uhh
when you're talking right at them uhh
they will never understand
that if god had wanted just a man for his image he would have give him
a clit of his own
where if he wanted to get off
he wouldn't have to go away somewhere and hide
where his mama couldn't see him
he could do it right there
in the kitchen fixing chicken on a sunday where everybody and his brother
has showed up unexpectedly and the kids are going fucking crazy
and the sports section has disappeared and you
might look like
you are at the end of your rope but you are really
about to cum
without even going near
yourself



�2007 by James Lineberger
previously published in thieves jargon