E-mail the author or send us feedback.

Blast @ is an online magazine presented by Exploding Can Productions, a digital media and Internet company.

Copyright © 1995-1998 Exploding Can Productions. All Rights Reserved. No part of this Web site may be used without permission.

To report any problems or if you have any questions, please write to or For advertising, please contact

home | about blast | who we are | editors' note | feedback | sitemap | press | user feedback | links


By Piper

I've blasted my body with great music
I've got a sway and I know how to use it.
but there are times when I want to resign
from the guise of
"woman who lives sensually"
and slip into
"woman tired of proving it."

I've beat off strange men
in strange places like

Tongue ring guy
at Mirror lake
in the rain
in the middle of the night
under an outhouse shelter

Geary street guy and I got each other off over on 13th
Talk about public displays
I've still got the bite marks to prove it

Come-in-my-eye guy was definitely a mistake
But after the guy that kissed with no tongue
It was a risk I thought I could take

Of course, if you asked any of my
verse fodder lovers
they would tell you
I don't take risks that way
I'm a safety girl
I've got my three rules
And those I never, never break

My occasional lover is an ex
(I know you say "That's a mistake.")
The sex is good with an occasional twist
Familiarity lets us pretend were intimate
Until we start another argument about semantics
and I add three more rules to my list

Never say:
I need
I want
I expect

at least not when
the one you are with
is awake

My spew is momentarily interrupted
by said ex on the phone
his ears and male appendage
must be burning

Instead of telling me to cool it
he encourages my wrath
and rewards my anger with praise

Suddenly the indignity that brought me close
to fisting walls
and kicking grates

becomes the simple disappointment
of not being satisfied
with fingers and tongues
that taste only the most obvious of places

So give me a minute to get angry again
at how tired I am
of denying
I want
the whole package
not just the one in his pants

My intense enthusiasm, they think, implies
I need
more than they can give me.

And, of course, by now
I expect
them to leave
if I feel anything more
than lucky
I just went out on a date

Please I don't want any of you
to think I hate men
they've been saddled with blame enough
And they will be no more than
we expect of them
Though for some
needing anything
is wanting too much

So I find I have two choices
settle for now
which when I remember the guy I met at a party
who grabbed at my breast like it was public property
makes my second choice
waiting for the right one
sound less demeaning yet more demanding

which I have been told
a gal like me has no right being

Well since I'm not Barbie
or as thin as a stick
and I'm not looking for Ken
or some macho cloned dick
I'll continue to insist
I deserve more than just plastic

I used to write
and soul mates
but singleness makes them all taboo
Now one scares me
the other scares them
and for the last I have a plug in substitute

I guess its time to say good-bye
I've exposed myself
more in the last few pages
than in the last few months

But I guess that's par for the course
I haven't fucked you
And you haven't left
So let's pretend this never happened
And don't lie
and say we'll be friends.