If only I had had the time to be more
succinct, then you would not be reading
this, my third line of verse shit. Nor
would you be about to be remembering
the time you commented on your name,
on how in our two respective tongues
its signifier could at once be a female
or male signified in the domain of la langue.
We both knew who you were, what sex you were.
But the foreigner used your name to unsex you on the spot,
to comment on your lack of feminine masculinity
or was it to make fun of your masculine femininity?
In that each time unique moment when your name was spat,
it was you who was moist with saliva, not your wear, but your coeur.
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