sometimes I hate
Jason and his Argonauts,
the 1963 film with shrieking hideous
harpies, their bare-breasts
and turquoise hides.
natter, tatter, tear
scatter, batter, where
are my fucking underwear?
cunt, cum dumpster, whore
in women's studies, we call ourselves
and it itches, bitches, almost more
than idiotic idioms like: schmooze,
you lose & you're out of luck, schmuck
that I associate with oil refinery
It's almost as if we are the drunken disciples
of Dionysus, who revel amuck, devouring raw flesh
at the enigmatic all-girl-orgies that terrified the men
of ancient Greece enough to worship gorgons.
"She's only there to be boned, might as well
get stoned" said an insensitive
giggle, giggle, grin, develop dysphasia
again & offer a coquettish stretch of skin.
"Just be yourself," he fumed.