it's time for my first poem in this notebook.
it will be a morning poem, because it is morning.
see! so bright and frresh! i can almost smell mint!
i wake up with bob dylan in my body and my legs spread wide.
permissive starfishing. independent seduction.
when my wheels turn i think of my stockings.
they are old old, seamed in the back, a perfect tan.
i put them on with great intent
after you rub lotion on my feet and legs
i wear my dress that looks like a hospital gown
and my prozac bathrobe and it's your birthday
and you ask to eat me out in my living room
and i say that's fine, sure
i'm fresh and wet and smooth and need feel
i am hungry you are hungry
heads are leaned back, asses are on edges
these moments are mine and in them i am less broken
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