Yeah Baby, You Know What I Like

We’re only this age once,

you know.  Someday twenty

or thirty years from now I’ll

whine and sigh at a bathroom

mirror about how smooth my

shoulders used to be when I

was young.  It might make me

cry.  It might make the mirror

uncomfortable, not knowing

how to soothe me without

getting more involved than

it really wants to be. I’ll punch

the mirror in the face because

I’m feeling angry and don’t

have a healthier available

outlet.  I’ll want sex real bad

because I’m feeling vulnerable

but kind of strong and sexy too

because I just fucking killed

that mirror like I get paid by

the hour to be a total badass.

Since this is my poem and I

am in control, there’ll be

someone there who wants

to have sex with me and

thinks it’s hot that I just

destroyed the bathroom mirror.

Neither of us will have to go

to work in the morning.

 

It will be the best night

I’ve had in a long time.

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