Leaving Sex Education & Other Spoils of Childhood

This is the year I am leaving sex education, and other spoils of childhood. Because, frankly, I am twenty-two, almost twenty-three years too old for my mother to insist that sex is bad. Bad for me, because no one wants to marry a used vagina.

I am taking my soap, dirty laundry, loud music and my laptop screen-time away from an older, more respectable generation. The unused mess of birth control pills can leave with its immoral, cancerous self; The fertile stink of overgrown teenager can blow away with its cloud of depressive self-doubt; The childish daughter can grow up, and come back when she is woman enough to represent her family.

The black sheep does not need sex education in the first place. She was born out of a black-hole. Literally, she is a black-hole kept warm by black fluff. She is the Boogie-Woman that everyone’s mother warns their children about. The perverse black-hole that eats nice boys who don’t know any better.

It is time for me to quit mother-tit-sucking and fend for myself. Time to stop leaching from all the sons around me. Create a universe to call my own; A home to fill groceries made of my brain sweat. Brain sweat, because it is not appropriate for a bright, talented girl of today to work traditional women’s roles; It is not time to wash dishes and have sex with a lover in return for survival.

Love and Bio-Diesel

my mother
my father

are building a room in their house
waiting for when I will fill it.

Our house will be a bio-diesel tank

I will be thrown out vegetable smoothie spilling outta my guts
out that pretty Bistro on Main St.
that pretty pretty Bistro, circulating in and out
pretty pretty girls.

I will smell of kitchen – deep-fryer thickened air
I’ve been marinating in. I am soupy waste oil.

I’ve been at the cold Exit door once before,
but this time, Mom & Daddy’s diesel truck is waiting for me
A tiny little tank for me
for me to grow up in.

when I am one crying cricket
solo, out in a cold, unfriendly field