Taking no prisoners. Including herself.


Trannie: Tonight, as I “get lost” with Chet Baker, I look out my window and see you, there, in front of the SF Party Store, (from) whence I bought my tasteful white Christmas lights on a string. I don’t know, tonight, if you are a transvestite or not. I suppose if you’re not, then this poem is mis-titled. If, however, you are: you are quite feminine.

[Night four: McWhirtle verse]

Do men who pay money
for services rendered
by you, dearest trannie
(who’s open for sale),

E’er stop for one moment
when dimming their headlights;
consider that, maybe, ain’t
woman but male?

(what is this?)

§124 · February 9, 2006 · Love Project, Tranny Prostitute · · [Print]

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