By Carole Spearin McCauley
I dreamed the Perfect She:
tall, willowy,
peach-skinned with softest hair at neck’s nape
where my fingers linger.
Earning a living, she is of course politically correct.
A tigress in bed but
a lady at the office,
where male execs defer to her.
If she’s in my dreams,
why not my life?
Luv, give us a kiss.
We’ll never meet like this.
I’ve done it again–put her in boxes–crosswords with
too many D’s and she wouldn’t be seen with a Dyke.
I found the Perfect She:
married to somebody else.
My fingers lingered, my lips touched,
but she went home to walk the dog, or was it diaper the baby?
Luv, give us a kiss.
Why did we ever meet like this?
Carole has written 12 books—medical nonfiction, literary and lesbian mysteries. Her short work has appeared in about 200 periodicals and anthologies, including New York Times, USA Today, Redbook, Self, North American Review, Women:Omen, North Atlantic Review, Lesbian Short Fiction and Girl Jock.