Hers I’m trying on,
Nice dress of dame in which are tapered cups.
I slip it past my ass—
No slip today, a cross-dress: dude in skirts.
Shoes I borrow ain’t for boys;
I’m slipping as I walk the line—
Arresting falls, my wrestling knees.

I’ve muumuu vestment on.
Sloughing pants, I change to girl’s,
Duds things—I’m arrayed as girl.
Cup things in raiment of girls.
Sudd’nly I’m a babe with curls.

Images of Joan delight me,
Prancing, panting, pantsless—before guy.
A ball gown firmly on; a cross-dress: dude in skirts.
Togs me gander, spying,
Dress I’m in; and I think: next a frock;
I grumble slightly as I play with stays;
A cross-dress: tunic’s hers.

I’ve new blue vestment on.
Sloughing slacks, I change to girl’s
Duds things—I’m a dame, not churl.
Cup things up with stays for girls.
Sudd’nly I’m a babe like Berle.*

Rounds of maquillage like wife—
I’ve rings inside my poked-through ears,
Delighting and inviting me!
Liberally I try the duds,
Some rhinestone-shiny. . .this vermillion one.
A call: the wife is yon; she’s cross—sees dude in skirts.

Wife blew fuse—wench sets on.
“Nut, freak!” screamed this baying girl,
“Duds thief!” keened this baying girl,
Punched me did this apeshit girl,
Nuts squeezed by this apeshit girl.

My nuts blue—stressing’s strong.
I’ve Cross, Blue, dressings on.


* Milton Berle: “Best known for dressing in drag. He would hobble around the stage in high heels while fixing his make up. A glamour girl he was not!”—morbid-curiosity.com