Wife and woman a moribund state

Southbound am I. There's no other way. Incidentally.

***

Chopping heads, making a new tract. My God, how refreshing. My cold blood warms up for the kill.

***

Hey, I’m trying to put it nicely but I don’t know Nice. Will you stop calling me Maam? It makes me feel less than the person I am. The impersonal I-don’t-know-you. The heartless label taped on a cardboard box.

***

Guilt, yes, but mostly anger: that friends and family should hurt by how one lives and defends her one little life over and often against and above their many.

***

To say the right political thing: my God, what am I, a leftist manifesto?

***

In the conventicle of the beleaguered, one sits alone and doesn’t speak up, her comrades of yesterday now her enemies.

***

I know what you think. Devious of me to throw you back to Pre-literate England just when you are conquering Europe with your post-Enlightenment liberalism and all the wares you have purchased by it. Dear T, please don’t get mad, or do get mad, but I’m just trying to understand the world that I want changed that I may fit into it like a T.

***

When Simone de Beauvoir wrote The Second Sex, she could not be just talking about the biological sexes male and female. Or when we say the fags are the third sex and lesbians the fourth, there’s nothing biological in the configuration. And, when I say sex as politically re-inventible, that should include gay men recasting themselves as lesbians (as happened in the late 60s in the separatist groups)and friend fD (former Dennis) defying God and the universe remaking herself as authentic glam woman via breast implants. Should this also include those women who are forever casting and recasting themselves: lesbian today, bi tomorrow, dyke next day, wife and mother next?

***

But wife and woman is a moribund state to fall into: not many are lucky enough to survive and make another climb or jump from there. That’s why I much like better the cross-dresser who doesn’t have the hardware to authenticate itself. The struggle, more than the arrival, gives us political and sexual edge.

***

Or what else do we have to make all the difference that we make in the universe?