I skate around the mall with a walkman tuned into subversive sounds I am in search of secret passageways people of unusual genders spaces of unabashed desire The teenage girls with nasty tongues never look at me yet they tell me stories from afar strange, exotic tales they could never have gotten from television they dress in layers in bizarre mosaic patterns indecipherable I listen for simple truths yet hear only complex lies which, of course, are much more trustworthy I purchase working class lingerie (I mean, underwear) at Sears from a salesgirl who KNOWS but will never tell I plead with her to scream it out reveal the source of her despair but she just laughs heartily and steals away into the hardware section I call the security guards who arrest me for wearing plaid socks with a leather skirt I manage to escape between the cracks and return unscathed to the scene of the crime...
middle
I light a cigarette though I don't know how to smoke it seems natural at the time, I cross my legs right over left, left over right, then I refasten my garter, smooth my skirt, fluff up my ******* I'm anticipating something but I'm not quite sure what it is a recurring moment, perhaps a (parenthetical thought), maybe the merger of parallel lines that's it, the merger of parallel lines I remember vividly the secret dance I used to perform when I was nine and yearning so awkward so strange so utterly incomprehensible yet it could not be denied it had a raw beauty to it that exhilarated me I check between my legs to see what gender I am today I find nothing in particular except an old beat-up baseball mitt and two dozen rose petals "I must be a boy," I say to myself, though I can't be certain, I never am, but I never give that away there are much better things to give away imaginary kisses telltale signs sideways glances I dream of climbing Mt. Everest in my Maidenform bra I never reach the peak I wake up in a cold sweat...
end
We make love in a vacant lot as it was meant to be cold asphalt below full moon above crickets chirping madly in the background He is my dada Daddy I am his exotic drag princess in heat when we kiss, our fantasies collide explode immersing us in minute particles of lust and longing He touches me as if I wasn't there when I cry out for more he gives me less the pleasure is all too much so I revel in the pain He draws his sword and I my water pistol we duel for hours into days he backs me into a corner I dive between his legs and make a run for the abandoned space between provocation and allure between outrage and surrender between perception and scandal He calls for me he pleads for me he paints his face by numbers and recites nursery rhymes for me remembering my name for the first time in weeks I reach out and pull him deep within and hope he hasn't forgotten how to swim...