For Mister B, My bastard seventh grade science teacher. Bastard.
Mister macho makes himself known with
grotesque muscle definition
and a sterile, steroid-shrunken
Testosterone sweat beads on
his bottle-tanned forehead
and his crew-cut mind
floods with ways to prove
his masculinity; his ability
to get pussy.
Five o'clock shadows in homophobia laced days, 'cause whatever
questions the true essence of what it means to be 'man' is
Fag, queer, you know,
his daily vocab,
'cause I guess he really cares to
know if his gym buddies enjoy
oysters or snails, but that's just
metaphor for men or women.
Protein shake nutrition, 'cause
he's gotta keep his carbs up.
He's angry, he lacks volition, 'cause he's animal, he's primal.