To The Woman Who Hates Men Wearing Pink Shirts

To the woman who hates men wearing pink shirts

To the woman who hates men wearing pink shirts,
I've got devastating news for you:
pink was originally a man's color
as it signified him strangling the life out of
a person's chest with his little fist
and make incisions to touch a person's heart.
Blue was a girl's color. Why
else do you think the Virgin Mary
has been photographed wearing the same colored
robe over the years like it was a
little, black, dress?

Of course, she and I get confused
all the time for each other-- a man
who is trying to pass as something else by
wearing so much blue as possible that
Freud would accurately diagnose me as
homosexual. Of course, the irony
is that he fainted at the sight of
William Jung.
And I'm told that the way they broke up
was not a lover's spat.
I think it is safe to argue otherwise.

To the woman who hates men wearing pink shirts,
why are you so afraid of a man who is
comfortable in the skin he wears like
fearlessness and compassion?
Yet you'll scream and shout at every young woman
who doesn't have any pink on
that she'll never find a man.
Lady, wearing blue has, thankfully,
never helped me "get" a woman--except
for the two lesbians who are some of my
closest friends.

I digress.

Why does it scare you to see a
straight body builder wear pink shirts and pants
while I only wear blue and can
change a diaper in three minutes flat?
And that is lauded and I'm considered a
"good man?"

To the woman who hates men wearing pink,
I can be nothing else but truly pink.
I storm mountain tops to protect my friends
and I nurture your grandchildren to
hold stars in their hands-- the stardust
that was taken at their births so that
they couldn't create beautiful landscapes.

To the woman who hate men wearing pink shirts,
aren't you tired for not being seen as
who you
are?