A Post Sex Build Your Own Gender Adventure
by Mark Spero
You pull the socks up to the crinkle of
your knees. Slowly, you turn each sock to
align with your heel and toes. You think
What about tube socks? Wouldn't they be
easier? You think What comes next? Perhaps
underwear. But, no, you want to capture
post sex androgyny, just socks and
button up shirt. To the closet. You
pick flowers billowing off shoulders. Soft
purple grass, sprawling garden, the crumpled
edges of this earth, this existence: who has
the time or energy to iron out
every edge? Your left hand seeks out a middle
hole, the heavy labial stitches
in long rows. Your right hand seeks out
a button, it is a brown sun with
a riveted center. But, here, there's a mistake.
The hole is right, the stitch is left. So small,
so silly, but still your hands cramp to switch, to
remember if you are man or woman, if
your shirt is a man or a woman, if
you hit on your shirt at last weekend's party and
made an absolute fool of yourself, if
you used to love this shirt and now,
now, you aren't so sure. It ends here.
It ends with such a small reminder.
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