The G20 Forum has been sending me unwanted nudes. They spell it with a “z”.
But the bad part is how my body reacts to Vladimir Putin’s pursed lips.
Just the name Vladimir has me thinking-
You should have seen the way the pus drained from under my toe,
because before it did there were air
bubbles moving there
like in a magic 8 ball with no answers.
My breasts are dry and milkless
and now I’m wandering Best Buy in search of anybody who can help
they take me as just another leather thespian
and stalk my posture with stiff necks and slow dry eyes
my body is moving boxily
making diagonals from the way my leather shoes wear down at the heal
the only quiet is the quiet you find in a toilet stall
where the ventilation hums like a woman
but stutters on the smell you are forcing it to take
With that said: can I tell you that the man I want to be
and a two-dimensional
cut out–like a construction paper snowflake a child had designed
but forgotten to unfold?