the malignant syndrome once called "our love,"

I no longer count
the wasted years I spent
with you,
Pragmatic female demon,
in what was once described
as a "transitional"
"heterosexual relationship."

Now despairing and disruptive
I have drunk of you to the bitter dregs
my mouth no longer desires
the MacDonaldized taste of your kisses.

My ears no longer wish to hear
the torrential nonsense that
errupts from your mouth
I don't believe that
global vaginahood
will save the spotted owl
or that the all wars will end
when people embrace each other with love

I don't believe that and I don't really care
I am so battle fatigued from being with you
that I should be in hospice on morphine
I spent years fighting that silent epidemic
of poor oral sex and all other manner
of pathologizing practices.

For the record I admit
for a time I enjoyed
huffing the fear and exhilaration
from our years of risky play.
Now what can I say
the malignant syndrome once called
"our love,"
must be aborted.
There I've said it in un-plain English
Do you want really want me
to repeat it again?

Capitano Tedeschi

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the malignant syndrome once called "our love," copyright March 18, 2009, by Jamie Jacks