Girl claims her manhood

My three sisters shared the same walls
the same womb, the same wagon

swaying between screams: Walkman. Walkman.
Walkman. Fourth Walkman. Packed
extra batteries thank god, take me home.

I learned to use a blinker, to tailgate,
how to wipe the windshield, smoke out the window,
how to lock doors, how to open.

Purposeful at midnight. A round of shots before vomiting
into a hat took from someone’s head, a stranger,
a bloodpunch and a phonecall, a door
and a quarter tank of gas.

This forged note to the nurse. Swollen
cheeks look like penance, but they’re a concoction.
There are books about it, an encyclopedia. We ate
honeysuckles after the planes
flew by and sprayed.