He and She (Fictional)


He felt the stubs on his face
And squeezed his gravity-prone testicles
He knew they were going to come off with time
And those pink Avirate bras would be perfect fits
And a G-string would carve an enticing whale tale

Jorgenson’s ghost was now murmuring sounds
It was a song that was castrating him
And he could feel a scalpel snipping through

His world would take a 180 degrees turn
Still he would always be that inferior woman
A bridesmaid but never the bride
One who could never sport a tampon or a hymen
Or a mucus plug, or squirt out colostrum

And perhaps that baby doll she will wear one day
Would make her that perfect Barbie Doll
Like a little girl staring at a mirror at her first doll
And accessorizing her with little frocks
And that perfect life would be hers now
Only if Ken would keep quiet
Screaming from inside – looking for some attention

And he knew that it was a two-fold chimera
Circadian as day and night
And he knew, she too, that maybe
Ken and Barbie were meant to be always together
– seemingly the Air Jordans were as important as high heels –
Beauty one day and beast the next

And life would always be extra colorful
Two-fold enriched than anyone else’s
And that childhood room he grew up in
Always appeared stunningly beautiful

With blue walls and pink roofs.

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