The girl lover was missing in Oz all that green in the city and winding yellow roads but who was missing the girl was missing a piece has been cut out–a piece has been cut out and I crave and curl around her absence, a cat, yawn and meow. My mother never let me have a cat–too much fur, too much to clean up, the stink of litter of box of pussy, no pussy cats allowed she actually said she HATED cats. A strong sword the word and I do imagine things a girl lover, a woman of bright oranges, carrying on across the field a red wagon and blue gingham. I will play for her the ukelele. I just love the sound of the word ukelele. The looping of e’s and l’s in cursive, a fading art. Oh and yes a girl lover. It has always been this, craving sugar sugar spills, hard fingers then flexion, sweet licking tongue kitty lap the milk.
Free Dorothy and all her girl lovers, the lion in drag.