“Tatted E.D.’s”

(For a female friend/leader…or more)

I decide how much ink to bare,

Based on audience type

And messaging.

A conclave of E.D.’s

Which typically,

Often,

Please don’t say it - but it’s true,

Is more Erectile Dysfunction

Than it is any definition of leadership or skill.

Least for us males.

I’m just always so impressed

By the pointedness,

And often girth,

Of middle-aged or late-career

White guys on display.

And I’m sitting right in the middle,

I don’t escape this pillory.

You and I talk,

We share,

I’m conscious of our common bond of adorned body on display

(Whether real or just a self-supporting story I tell myself - ain’t I breaking the norm?)

That I enjoy more because it’s linked to shared title and status.

But I’m reminded daily,

Or maybe weekly

(Weakly?)

That I’m rarely man-sprained,

Or ignored,

Spoken over

Dismissed

Assume to lower in rank,

Ironically thought more as a pre-pubescent cock thst can’t get it up,

When compared to a bunch of guys,

Whose phalli,

We really wish we didn’t have to see

All the fucking time!

Put that shit back in your pants,

Sit down,

Shut up,

Let someone

Who doesn’t have a second head flapping around like a swarm of gnats,

Get on with the show,

A fifth act

Putting your oh so glorious spectacle to shame,

A re-writing

A new take,

Booing you off the stage

Delivering a masterpiece of an ending you could only dream of.

Like I said,

For some it is more E.D. than E.D.

(Like most of my poetry/writing, where I start and where I end are often more improv than any skill or particularly well thought-through creativity)