A college roommate once confessed
he fantasized about growing a vagina
on his shoulder: It would be
so handy, right there
whenever he needed to whisper
in its big wet ear.
John loved redheads & disliked feminists.
One woman informed me
he had “bedroom eyes.”
Where would the uterus go? I asked.
He laughed. It wouldn’t need one—
it would have me.
What about the pillow talk?
It would sing me to sleep, he said,
with its pulse of surf.
See Rachel’s photographic response, “Salty.”