Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

Fuck Fuck Fuck

 

That felt good.

 

There was a time

fucked up as it seems

when only guys could say that.

 

The other day I pondered that

as I was walking onto campus

and  heard a woman student

say Fuck this!

 

Years ago she would have been

called a coed or chick, which

I know sounds fucked up now.

 

And I pondered her words,

In my ear, out of her mouth.

In/out, in/out, in/out.

 

Just guys used to say Fuck.

We talked the talk

but needed help to

walk the walk.

 

I guess talk’s

like styles

that come in, then go out.

In/out, in/out, in/out.

 

There were rules.

No kiss first date. Kiss second date. Necking third date.

Maybe petting after that.

That’s how Judith Kitchen dissects dating in the 50’s

in her book Half in Shade.

 

Rules basically true

for my sister.

 

But in the 60’s

Woodstock karate chopped

the 50’s as the acid dropped.

 

being liberated 

we celebrated fucking

wordage so outdated

 

orchestrated what was fated

changed the way that we dated

 

Across the land there was freedom

spreading out like a condom.

 

But the styles

continue coming.

 

In and out

second coming.

 

In and out

human plumbing.

 

In and out...in/out…in/out…in/out.

 

Words like necking, pet, and coed

are now berated.

 

What the Fuck?

 

They were in but now they’re out.

In/out, in/out, in/out, in/out.

 

There’s only one survivor.

 

And that is FUCK.

 

which oddly

self procreates

as if it can stand on its own.

 

While everything else is

in and out, in and out,

in and out, in and out.

 

It is in and in and in.