boil them, fry them. How about saute ’em?
She’s just a girl who wants a good time.
Are you hearing this Michelle? Or are you typing
the words? stone. cold. stars. Kansas. felt. sky.
Flawless is a far-flung notion. That I could take
down a man, I mean. Possible? If I gain control
of just one shoulder, then I could get away with it.
Call me if you want to use my strong thigh muscles.
I very much enjoyed ramming my quad over and over
and over, and upward in blows to his head, his chest,
his groin. But she’d like to get back to sautéed stars,
wouldn’t she? Look here, sister. I’ll give you five.
[A weird thinking-out-loud poem based on my day
yesterday writing a poem, going to self-defense class,
and fielding questions on said poem for Poetic Asides]