I never feel more like me
Than when I sat up in that old tree,
Fantasizing about him.
Robert E Lee,
How you give me feelings in an area above my knees,
But momma say it’s not appropriate for a girl like me
To feel so strongly
About the scraggly beard and the confederate flag in
your portrait.
In my room I looked at pictures of him and his men
And often remarked on what a handsome man he had been
I wished I’d been Barbie, and he my Ken.
I don’t care if I’m only five years above ten
Because back then,
Would it really have mattered?
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