After the industrial music
at the gay dance club
the industrial dyke
took me
back to her loft.
The chains on her leather jacket
rattled with the city sounds
and the bells waiting in my mind
as we walked to her place and she
held my hand firmly.
She put hard music on
once we were inside.
Again, it was hard.
Her place was just off the Drag,
within siren song of the state Capitol.
She told me to
stand up against the brick wall,
facing towards the brick wall.
Then she told me to trust her
and her earthen perfume
kissed the soft skin of
my neck.
That was trust personified,
angelic being for a simple mortal,
a fissure in time.
She then ripped
my dress off
and instructed me to
“pop my ass up in the air”.
My perky tits and ass
found a purpose…
a purpose no woman, man,
or gender queer
had before ever given them.
She proceeded to do
things to me for hours
that I can’t really write about.
I felt ripe after, like a juiced fruit,
all my fluids everywhere,
spilled and drained.
It smelled like a festival of
pubescence;
springtime flowers,
scents of minerals and virginal
young women
spilled on the concrete floor…
and, and, and
her scent of leather.
All my karma and souls
now reset,
with the angels again in the
sunshine this morning.
These are new things here.
New things for the future.
A proper future,
a future
where the women of America
f@$k the absolute hell
out of each other in freedom
and security.
Where the women of America
have a chance at actually living.
Yes. USA! USA!
We’re coming.
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