change

poetry

i’d like to imagine i’m
politically progressive, yet
yesterday i changed my own oil
and became a man.
I slid beneath the car
as if entering some secret
mancave, the license plate
transforming into a NO GIRLS sign
I peered into the mechanical intricacies, nodding
in acknowledgment of the innate knowledge
embedded in My Y-chromosome
and I set to work
with the solemnity of a samurai
some time later I emerged
cleaning My hands with the greasiest of rags
these oil stains becoming the lifeblood of the vanquished
evidence of excess testosterone.
now, Come, women:
bask in my musky glory.