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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