A person should never stop trying to be: Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, Barbra Streisand, Liza Minnelli, Donna Summer, Joan Rivers, Diana Ross, Lucille Ball, Celia Cruz, Tina Turner, Mae West, Cher, Grace Jones, Marlene Dietrich, Bette Midler, Carmen Miranda, Angelina Jolie, Andy Warhol, Austin Powers, Johnny Depp, Elton John, Michael Jackson, Justin Timberlake, Ozzy Osbourne, or Boy George–those people we see on drag night. Until Ezra Pound in the 21st century makes the list, please, stop telling me how fabulous he is.
We should never speak
too big till there’s a drag queen
out there being us.
- That one last pair of clean socks before the judgment day.
- One last chewy center Gobstopper on one of Jupiter’s moons.
- A hypodermic needle full of pilgrims heading for America.
If I were just one those three,
I’d be a sunshine world all over the place.
I’d lay my troubles down like an Al Green song stuck
in permanent jukebox play.
I would be an
onion peel, a sink stopper,
a can opener.
Yes, except that only I would be
an onion peel, a sink stopper, a can opener,
a sunshine world all over the place
listening to Al Green
as one of the three items mentioned earlier:
- a clean pair of socks before judgment
- a Gobstopper on a Jupiter moon
- or a hypodermic needle full of pilgrims
heading to America.
One of those.