National Women's Month
A Poem
It’s National Women’s Month
All over America dinners are burning
Men are starving in the streets, naked and libidinous and afraid
Their eyes gone red with the madness of celibacy
The desperation, the want and need
This is Lysistrata taken to apocalyptic proportions
And it must end at once!
I will no longer accept warm beer!
I will no longer stare vacantly into a refrigerator
Made pathetic by its emptiness
And utter lack of potential!
Damn you, woman!
With your tits and your hair curlers
We have made our concessions
We gave you the goddamned vote.
And what did you give us?
Donald J. Trump.
Twice!
National Women’s Month is a national crisis!
Babies aren’t being born
Our testicles have gone bluer than the most perfect azure sky
And across these great American Plains
There sit countless copies of Cosmopolitan and Elle
UNREAD!!
Women of the world:
We men beg of you
We implore you
With your short short skirts and your furry little boots
Step back into the fold
Use your wisdom to see this month for what it really is: March.
The month of basketball and spring.
The month of lambs and lions and other fluffy things.
Come back to me woman!
And bring me a beer while you’re at it.
Then come next March
When again you are overtaken by indignant feminist rage
Think of the men
Think of what they would do without you.
And of how a man, lacking a cold beer and a good woman,
is no man at all.
Thanks for reading!
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