Tuesday, August 29, 2017


I’m Taking This Nipple With Me

This convention paperwork
is for the birds.  But the
birds are mine. So.  Well,

here I am, once again, in the
middle of a conversation
in which all words are neutral.

I remember political correctness.
I was arrogant enough to be in-
credibly annoyed by it, this im-

perative residue of bigotry; of
any civil rights progression.
“Aren’t we over the need

for this nonsense?  Aren’t we
well beyond this?”  I would
argue. I certainly believed

that I was.  “And who wants
homogenization, anyway (ex-
cept in milk…)?”  Today, that

naïveté churns my gut.  Love
exists and exits as if it were
too invaluable to even knock

on your door.  Not every word
is a lie (another subject), a con-
descension; every utterance

does not derive from malicious
intent.  These tits were made
for walking, I surmise.  And

every single word is one
hundred percent neutral.