Fri
Mar
13
Penis Envy
The day my penis quit
he didn’t give his two weeks,
he wasn’t worried about the possibilities
of future references and resumes.
He just up and left
citing a bad office environment
and lack of action. He placed his cubical
in a cardboard box. I offered a raise
but it was beyond that point
and not about the money.
Unlike the notorious
tales of undersexed wives
testing the blade on finger-tips
to ensure emasculation,
the day my penis slid
passed me and out the front door
he was calm. I ran to the window
bludgeoned with empathy:
Isn’t that what we all want?
To live and leave on our own terms,
to spatter an indelible mark of our own?
Perhaps not–
I, watching from the window,
desperately fought the urge to follow.
