A college roommate once confessed
he fantasized about growing a vagina
on his shoulder: It would be
so handy, right there
whenever he needed to whisper
in its big wet ear.
John loved redheads & disliked feminists.
One woman informed me
he had “bedroom eyes.”
Where would the uterus go? I asked.
He laughed. It wouldn’t need one—
it would have me.
What about the pillow talk?
It would sing me to sleep, he said,
with its pulse of surf.
*
See Rachel’s photographic response, “Salty.”
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Dog Logic
- The Colors of Noise
- Crossing Wales
- Memo from the CEO of Little Prince, Inc.
- Poems to be shaved into the hair of the author’s back
- Desideratum
- Capture
- Living in Analog
- Organ Meats: A Primer
- Walking Weather
- Beach Glass
- Tree Without Birds
- Hermit
- The Captain’s Reverses
- Pets
- Exchange
- Heart
- Digital
- The Fullness of Time
- Pandora
- Reading the Icelandic Sagas
- Hit the Lights
- Vagina Dialogue
- Helmsman
- Old Norse Family Values
- On Hold
- Heels
- Looking for the Reader
- The conversation continues: two videopoems
I once visualized boasting two more penises like female breasts, you know — for the women.
Yow!
dave, i love this! and not just b/c it mentions redheads :) but b/c it is both fantastical and conversational at once. pretty cool.
Hi Carolee – Glad you liked this! John was the first guy I ever knew who specialized in redheads. I of course thought he was crazy. Chalk it up to youthful ignorance, I guess. :)