The unownable

I’m fucking James Bond —
the Roger Moore James, not the Sean Connery —
the straightedge James, not the curved —
and it’s nice to be fucking James
for once

But there’s not just me
in my dream: there’s another sista,
ten years younger,
five inches shorter,
six semitones higher,
with flick-shoulder curl-tipped platinum hair
and narrow
little lips

She’s as pretty as death, but she doesn’t
want to play; she comes at me
with a knife. We fight. James stares
at the ceiling. He doesn’t mind
who fucks him, two women
or one, me
or her. I’d be happy to enjoy him
together, or make some arrangement, but she
wants to own the unownable —
so she slashes and spoils
my dream

What do you think?

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