Ode to Men – Nov. 2008

Ode to Men

It all seemed the same
(it really couldn’t change)
only quickies, I guess,
even if not,
and not that many, actually,
and I always got something
whether money or dinner
(though I prefer money)
or a ride home
and the self-deluding
consolation that
I’m just like other girls,
and who’s to say I’m not?
I didn’t feel anything,
bad or good
I often couldn’t tell
(do I realize?)
they’re inside at first,
it didn’t affect me
or bother me, really,
but their release is my relief too
And they could do
whatever they want to me
wherever they want on me
in any way they want
for I’m very flexible
and can be bent
and stretched and pulled
and twisted and warped
and nothing hurts
(and I prefer not having to see them)
anything
except demean me
or debase me
above all on my face
(why do some girls?)
and the more of them
at once gives me
space from them all
but their coarse tongues
and rough touch
and ugly members
had no chance of
awakening me
so nothing lingers for me
and pleasure is absent
so no meaning appears
and thus no sense of shame
or sin
I just receive them
but not be there
anywhere
ever