I
Fingers positionless, my eyes invite another day into their opening slits. My hand finds itself reaching for what I don't miss yet, a transformation that arouses before it arrives. What I discover -- is that I've been given a vagina for one day. Don't ask me how I know it's just one day...but it is. Could be I've decided to analyze the situation before I abuse it, which as a man I probably would. But as a man unmanned I'm in a delicate position--one that finds me looking for witnesses as I wake up. And one day is maybe all I can ask of you.

Voyeurism is tough enough in a modern society where anything is available. Where the ease of seeing takes away the many forbidden mysteries of self-discovery. When does self-voyeurism become taboo--this is why I'm glad you're out there...watching.

Something about me first, since I know nothing about you. And given the nature of our relationship, that's probably how it'll remain. Although something about you may surface by the end of this story after all.

As a writer I invent worlds of language to live in, but as a man my handwriting is lousy. Existence is a mistake for me, a mistranslated scrawl from pen to paper. Mispronouncing what I think I've written, I take walks from my ear to my mouth all the time...somewhere along the way, I find a new part on my body and lose my original thought. Forgetting what I've done, I do it again and call it Pure. My story becomes my home. And for the next 24 hours "this" story away from home will become what I need.

Society tells me I can conquer because of my hyper-extended "machismo"--but times have changed. The hardest core is harder than it used to be, as the genders take turn being timid, greasing a world full of squeals. I remember once...I asked some women in a bar what they would do if they had a penis. They immediately looked at mine. I became quite aroused. Something about the mentioning of unmentionables that paves a path towards nudity. The torture of recognition looking for libido--yours I'll show, you, show me mine.

If only men could wear wonder bras in their pants, calling attention to their "moment"--forcing women to look where they couldn't help looking. Accentuating the positive! Where true "wonder" lies! In the balance between genders I'm trying to figure out how best to cherish this immaculate moment. While you out there--are witness to this plummet, a freefall which we know will end in heartbreak.

But accidents are fascinating, especially as they're happening. And here I am...lost again--looking for love in all the wrong penis. I better get back to the matter at hand, before I waste this once in a lifetime "situation." This miraculous gift will need a few hours of exploratory "musica," the better to understand the undulations of such newly found flower--may take... some... time... excuse... me...

II
I awoke positionless and eating--let's call this

Pure

In the mirror, my stubble was itchy--let's call this

Wonder

I awoke as a naked manface

edible juice streaming down my cheeks

glazed on my body, a morning-after night's contour

a drape of slick transformation, settling under my

belly--let's call that Yum

one hand on my face the other inside me

no one around as my fingers go deep As a man

I live in light But this room is as dark as the night

I awoke in

my fingers stay deep--let's call this Curious

as your fingers lay over my skin--let's call this

Pretend

as you explore what you feel is your fingers pulled

to my breath As to motion mountainations of light To

fissures

refracted motormotions of dust As a man

my move is emotion This room

is a man This skin is emotion Implosion to motion of

what

this immediate light Where I live--but only

as a man My fingers

go deep

What mist in magnite's licker-clicked patch of
ribboning might! To mistmaker, magnetic night
clings--to sail the immediate light--to pull into; SEE
me into this--NOW...as our pores lay open consumed by
air, what sounds of light rise but immediate?

Hours have passed my fingers haven't--let's call this

Typical Male

in search of immediate light or betrayal As the phone

rings

as the sun climbs--could we just, stay in this moment

As unsteady for me as it is for you, who I've thrust

this upon

maybe, or not--How easy to assume, to abuse

the privelege...like I said I would and perhaps,

even; for now

ruined this moment What typical maleness--let's call

this Testosteroni-Boy-Ar-Dee