permission slip

i ask the angels if i'm allowed
to use the bathroom. they laugh
& say, "in another 800 years."
my gender sometimes grows
too many fingers. sometimes
too many legs. i take it to
the witch doctor to see 
if he has any use for all this excess.
he locks his door & peers
through the peep hole.
he says, "i don't take your kind."
often when people ask me
what i am i lie
& say, "a condor." at least them
i could skim the cream off the sky.
of course they can tell 
i am not what i say i am
& so they either 1) start a world war
2) pretend they don't see me.
i'm always telling people.
don't invest in an invisibility cloak.
just get yourself a wrong gender.
of course, any gender
can be wrong if you leave it 
out in the sun or feed it
too many olives. my problem was
i talked a mushroom & the mushroom
asked if i'd ever considered 
selling my soul. who wouldn't
sell a thing with soo many annoying bells?
i find myself asking more 
& more. i come to a pill bug 
to see if i'm allowed to cross 
the path. the pill bug asks
for my crossdressing permit
or a permission slip from my parents.
can't he tell my parents are
too busy burying my shoes?
in the end, there's always going to be
check point where the guard
looks the other way. 
i say, "wouldn't you like to know
exactly how a mouth becomes
a butterfly?" they say,
"yes, yes please." we go 
& breed silk worms. harvest 
their poetry. sew a gown 
fit for any androgyne.

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