This mad thing Cerebral Deeply complex and intellectual Not red lipstick, high-heel clatter but Thick-rimmed glasses, dark grey matter You think you’re the first, to gift me this end? It’s old hat, my dear new “friend” “God you’re intelligent, but…” “I love our conversations, but…” Men You always love this mind So like yours, in it you find A kindred spirit So I allow you to Inhale it Play with it Caress it Engage it Penetrate it But not the cursed body attached Oh imperfect thing! Awkward gender fuckery Don’t even fucking look at me In all my grotesque inability I know this queer dog won’t hunt! To be that red lipstick, high heel-wearing Pretty girl on the arm Thin, gorgeous, beautiful His girl… Your girl… Those girls… Never! Yet I suppose I shouldn’t complain When skin sags, the mind can remain It can exist for decades more Than those imperfect semaphores Of transient beauty and light Still… To be her…. For just one… goddamned… night A goddess of exquisite beauty He places his hand so gently On the soft small of her back Adorned with red dress from the shelf The way she moves God!…. It’s art itself!!!! Guiding her through the crowd Her protector Yet also wanting to project her To them Those other men Her sexiness, his prowess Making sure they want “his girl” too It’s what they do They cock their heads Exclaiming while lusting after her “My, my, what good taste you have sir!” A women’s brain isn’t seen the same No one looks at her mind and thinks his name Just damned bodies…. Oh imperfect things! For those of us blessed this way I tell myself I’d rather the mind But lonely nights like tonight you’ll find I’d much rather be her Not jealousy… Not really…. Just a longing admiration Just a deep drive and desire To be his girl… That girl… Just once. But I’m this mad thing Cerebral Deeply complex and intellectual Not red lipstick, high-heel clatter but Thick-rimmed glasses, dark grey matter You’d never know, I show no fear Aching for that hand, year after year For my protector Yet, He never… ever… appears. So I throw on this armor Leather jacket Chest binder And (yes really) men’s. boxer. briefs. I turn to see him running out the door Chasing her diaphanous dress evermore All… the way… back… home. And I move through the crowd alone Wearing this queer armory and thinking my “Oh so brilliant!” thoughts