What’s In A Name…

Whatchya doin’ my lamb,
what on earth are ya lookin’ for
that might be in that drawer ?

Should I not call you that, my sweet
pussycat; do such terms of endearment
taint somehow your virility –
Not to me they don’t.
This fucked-up world
has sliced so mindlessly
this gender thing –
as if gents were all
javelin, ladies
all ring.

When you lie with your head
on my thigh by that stream,
please let me ne the guard
of your tenderest dream –
you be chick, I be hen –
play like children again.

Then let me be the princess,
you ride up to rescue
smiting the dragon
and all of his retenue
or I’ll be your milkmaid
and you, a great a sage
or a king on a throne
and I’ll be your page.

.

.

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