Thick muck mire and mud,
chin-tuck nod that catfish there,
big fucker, wouldn’t want to piss him off.
One foot, front of the other.
Same as life, same as anything.
Ain’t that, ain’t it so,
like them pretty eyed boys,
and their blush pink lips,
as they explain why you ain’t a real gay.
:Beautiful men.:
‘course, I ain’t for poppers,
or bears or twinks or cubs
or flaming or anonymity or clubs.
Ain’t nothin’ against ‘em.
:Beautiful people.:
Just got the wrong flavor for my tongue.
Just want who I want,
ain’t gonna reason out,
don’t need “type”, or sex, or gender.
:Beautiful women.:
explainin’ why I ain’t their,
their kind-a man.
What with my dresses ‘n heels,
with my gender-fluid personality.
One foot, front of the other.
Don’t matter, don’t matter none.
Get him to that wedding.
Haul this line, dig toes and through,
thick muck mire and mud.
