dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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i   c a n n o t   b e   t h e   ' f a g '
y o u   c l a i m   i   a m

m a r i s s a   r a n e l l o

b'cuz: I remember yer labia
lookin like a rotting sliver of
roast beef, a bruised carcass
floating in the abyss
of your own love.

because: I hear the song
'barrel of a gun'
I think of a set of sloppy tits
bouncing on the bed in rhythm
with the bass and treble.

b'cuz: I realized you were
missing teeth in the morning,
vomited kool-aid & vodka; which
I thought was an exploding ulcer.

because: I drive stick and would
never love anything automatic. Your
pussy spread like a Georgia O'Keefe
painting, reminded me of a trip to
the dentist that resulted in a root canal.

b'cuz: I like to dominate a submissive man.

because: I'm afraid of pussy.

b'cuz: I love cock.

because: I'm a closet fag.

b'cuz: I wasn't breast fed.

because: I'm multi-orgasmic.

b'cuz: I love the smell of a man.

because: I'm told my pussy is like a vice grip.

b'cuz: I am a man trapped in a female form.

because: I don't want to be typecast as 'another fag' poet.



© copyright 2004 : marissa ranello


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