The fastest way into a woman’s pants is to get into the space between her ears,

The fastest way into a man’s pants is to get into the space between him and his pants.

The fastest way into a Drag King’s pants? See above…

“What’s that lump boy?” You ask, “There in your pants? Is it happy to see me? Is it not

biological

perchance?

Is it a cotton tube sock,

bandannas or even

‘real-skin’ perhaps?”

– The shape of the flesh thrills me less than the strut across the stage, the smile in the aisle, the lip-synched rage.

I’ll be who you desire,

engender

any gender

you require.

I see you are strong – nice hands – quite a grip,

Can we tip

the velvet?

Or trip

Over the gender lines that define what we should want and what we do,

Fall into lips, crushing hard enough to bruise

What’s under there?

Silk?

Or cotton men’s underwear?

Can we shed our trappings?

Can we shuck ourselves of the husks of  coded wrappings?

Can we be two people held against the other’s flesh by strong hands?

Filled

With desire

Instead of confined in the gendered mire.

Fucking, instead of fucked up

Over who’s on first and what’s on second

Thrust inside of you as you thrust inside of me.

Begging the other for release,

Trembling, taking in your moans and whimpers

I echo them amplified, increased…

With my lips between your hips

Human bonds tether us together,

Laws

Human and physics don’t apply

To each and every buck,

grind

and sigh

When you’re riding my thigh

– I just want you as you are

who you are

Ask it of me

and I will comply.