Boys look past
my shyness
I don't understand

So beautiful I see my feelings
in my face, my forms
in the mirror

Why doesn't anyone
want to enjoy me?
The beauty of a boy

discovered inside and out
by my skin
my curious body

In other people's houses
I capture the beds
in my dreams

None of them invite me
Can they see in me
how critical I am?

She is a goddess,

wearing a long train of boys --


like a Golden Goose.

She doesn't want to smell

like she does smell now, unwashed --


It's turning men on.

Your leg on my thigh

provokes me, then you ask me:


This is fun, isn't it?

I like to do it

in the spotlight. Do you think --


I'm looking at you?