How brazen of me to conceive:
the idea of my being a boy.
I wonder if I’d feel as free - as the cocker -
to wag my tail in rebellious lush,
to just move and walk with a careless pink flush...
I’d never worry about my gait,
nor about my hair...
I’d never worry about tights hugging my stomach
nor setting my shoulders straight when bare;
I’d forget about my purse, pockets my only pounds.
I’d run and chase with sweet independence,
heaving my chest forward, arms out--
ready to emit a Tarzanian roar bout.