Rejection

I’m not interested in any

frigid bitch philosophy

damning me for my

sexuality.

Bring your dry kiss

to the left cheek

of my luxurious ass

so I can fart (maybe shart?)

in your false face—

that’s the only wind

you’re ever getting here,

breathlessness is reserved

for those who revel in it,

tossing aside the need for oxygen

like last year’s swimsuit,

the elastic worn out, breaking into

stretchy white splinters

on a broad blue butt.

Shortcomings are not

l o n g i n g

Wanting is shallow,

a surface skimmer pretending perfection.

(desire delves deep,

finding fathoms of failures.)

Fold your clean white cotton

panties, put them in the

top drawer of your dresser

that never learned how to be

an undresser. Absurdize

yourself in upholstery prints—

I’ll be over here reading,

wearing glasses

and a bracelet.