Men, Listen, Please

April 14, 2017

Please don't touch underneath my hair,

Where I'm full of whipped cream

And old play-doh, I haven't had time to clean up today, or any day


And be sure if you are going to touch me at all

That you don't break my head

Or snap my spine during a massage, 

It's happened before, just to warn you, 

My body is coming apart at the seams,

So much time spent capping markers before they go dry,

Days of erasing boards


Today, I can feel my ears hearing,

My shoes eating my toenails,

My tits like they've been ravaged by bats in the night--

If you touch them they might burst out

The last of my power like a punctured pouch of capri sun,

Which you would drink up, I'm sure, 

And I need that power


Because I've been so busy lately, 

So busy with my students and the knocking salesmen 

With my addiction to addicts and my fire table—

So busy planning to maybe one day sit at it and write,

Maybe one day show it off to friends—

But here I am with my papers and the cars and the traffic at bars

And the jammed sidewalks, and your voices calling calling my body,

My youthful body, my aging body, my flabbing body, your lying

Voices coaxing these knees that I need to walk up mountains but I sit on for you, 


Leave me with some of this power please, 

So that I may wash my back, 

Shave the cream from my legs, 

Tie my hair up and start a fire on the summit

That is all I ask 

And I am asking nicely

I am so tired 

I have so far yet to go


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