Monday, March 17, 2008

How to Make a Garden Grow

I learned some super important stuff back in high school. Crucial. The parts of a cell, the periodic table, the way of the fruit fly. How many minutes it takes me to run a mile. Types of triangles. To type. Fucking crucial. I also learned how to stay there well. How to keep my feelings to myself. Where a penis goes.

Thing is. I didn’t learn enough about the mind-blowing clockwork purpose of my ovaries. My connection to the earth over time. My uterus and its linings, the size of my fist, a house inside. The cervix like the wet tip of a nose, a finger’s length in. Perfect shot. Most people have no idea how safe it can be to get all up in there, how simple, how made. What runs through it. They have no idea what they’re trying to fill.

We learn how to insert a tampon, the reason the blood’s brown, how the sperm entices the egg and boroughs in like a worm in fruit. We get babysitting classes with crying babies, chicken eggs, sewing machines and stoves with over-head mirrors. Now, girls can always know how to bake a mean snicker doodle, how to raise a baby in an industrialized world, how to rim twelve dicks in a row, but have no clue why a condom is of interest. Pretty much only their interest. That their vagina is a pocket. A sanctuary. Anything but a hole.

If a girl has the right to memorize the periodic table then someone should inform her that all that matters are her breasts on television at night. Then she can lie somewhere between a clean slut and a virgin whore and negotiate it all on her own. So sad, so very sad. It is so unfortunate. But so not so surprising to hear. Now girls and their crucial parts are popping up with sex-laden diseases multiplying like fruit flies because abstinence only only has nothing to do with having sex.


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