What, other than myself, do I
enjoy?
Love is such a pumped-up word!
Using myself as a boy.
Fun to have myself for a toy!
To ignore or belittle me would be absurd.
I’d have to find something else to enjoy,
or somebody else. Why am
I so shy?
Because I don’t want to be a turd,
I guess, courting you as a boy—
am I cute or am I icky?
I suppose I’ll have to leave the herd
and wander off and enjoy
myself in my own private way,
tending to my sweet bird
of paradise—myself as a boy,
but knowing in my heart a girl
would be prettier.
I’d rather use myself as a girl.
What, in my own stead, do I enjoy?
Only you, my precious Joy!
