When my female friends are left By horrid spouses and lovers, I commiserate. I send gifts- Powwow songs and poems- and wonder Why my gorgeous friends cannot find Someone who knows them as I do. Is the whole world dead and blind? I tell my friends, “I’d marry you Tomorrow.” I think I’m engaged To thirty-six women, my harem: Platonic, bookish, and enraged. I love them! But it would scare them- No, of course, they already know That I can be just one more boy, A toy warrior who explodes Into silence and warpaths with joy.