I almost taste that in my mouth
as if it were a mango sliding from skin
onto my tongue. This way or the other-
pine or decay. Right in the middle
sweet and juicy.

You bought two tickets to see some Sappho on stage, and to boot she's funny as hell. Well, I don't wanna be surrounded by a whole bunch of bi-hating lesbians trying to Convert me until they realize I cannot be something I'm not.

Then you say, well we could go downtown to the gay bar. I laugh because I definitely don't wanna be in the middle of sweaty, horny, fine looking men who I can't fuck. Besides, the lonely ones, on the sidelines, staring at the dancing asses are pissed off at me Because I've already got a husband, and I'm still not satisfied. That's how they see it Anyway.

Bring me to the book-café, or the grocery story, or the soccer field. Bring me to the art Museum or the corner bar hosting open mike, and we'll shoot some pool. Bring me to the Thrift store on Main street. Bring me to the farm so I can pick my own damn fruit.

You tell me – That's the problem with your kind. You want it all.

I say nothing, and bring you to bed, lay you down, kiss you from behind
The way you like it. You awake to find a note that says – I'll bring myself.