| Poetry feminist, that is |
| Untitled by Anonymous When I was seventeen, a man in Dakar Station Men's Room (I couldn't read the signs) said to me: You're a real ball cutter.I thought about that For months and finally decided He was right. Once I knew that was my thing, Or whatever we would have said in those days I began to perfect my methods. Until then I had never thought of trophies. Preservation Was at first a problem: pickling worked But was a lot of trouble. Freezing Proved to be the answer. I had to buy A second freezer just last year; the first Was filled with rows and rows of Pink and purple lumps encased in Saran Wrap. I have more subjects then I can handle, But only volunteers. Its an art like hypnosis Which cannot be imposed on the unwilling victim. If you desire furhter information about the process and The benefits, please drop in any night from nine to twelve. My place is east of Third on Fifty-sixth. You'll know it by the three gold ones over the door. |