I Woudn't Have It Any Other Way

I have a terminal Y chromosome infection 
I love it
It doesn't hurt at all
It's a privilege, so they say
And I agree
I wouldn't have it any other way

I'm tight with the bigwigs
Who run everything
We share the infection
And we all agree
That we should start another war
I hope that all my male friends and relations
Will be sent to the meat grinder
To be cannon fodder
How lucky for them
What an honor
It builds character
To do your duty, to show courage
I'm glad we're not allowed to cry
Once they're all dead
Or hurt so they can't fight any more
I'll be allowed to go
To be slaughtered
A noble death
A manly end
It's a man's life, a man's death
Maybe I'll be one of the lucky ones
And be shot, or horribly hurt
Or crippled, or part of my body blown off
Or at least I'll be emotionally scarred
And then I'll have that precious excuse
Not to worry if I'm living my life well
Because it's all I can do
To get through the day
And keep it together
I'm glad we're not allowed to cry

Or maybe this once
My high-placed cronies
My luminaries of the patriarchy
My kings, presidents, and magnates
Who hobnob with me
Won't listen to me
In spite of our shared infection
And there won't be any war
And I shall have to content myself
With working my life away
It's such a privilege, so they say
And I agree
I've been trained for this since I was small
I'm so glad we're not allowed to cry
I wouldn't have it any other way

I'm glad we're not allowed to touch other men
Except to punch them
Or in sport
We have external genitalia
Where better to wear them?
Otherwise they wouldn't worry us
The badge of our masculinity
So easily attacked or taken away
In sport we wear a cup
But is it to protect ourselves
Or to protect the other man?
Touching and soft words
Are reserved for women
That is the way it should be
I wouldn't want to be ridiculed
Or beaten to death
Or dragged behind a truck
Or set on fire
For not sparing other men
Touching and soft words
Anything besides work and sport
It's a privilege, so they say
And I agree
I wouldn't have it any other way

I've never read in the papers
About women dragging other women
Into the street
And beating them to death
For putting flowers in each other's hair
Or for touching or soft words
Or for admiring one another's clothes
Women are sometimes soft
And this is a good thing
But men do not think to do such things
I wouldn't have it any other way

He who uses the pronoun of another group
Forfeits membership in his own group
...unless he is a woman
In French, it is even worse
Si elles arrivent à utiliser le pronom féminin
Elles savent qu'elles sont solides
Qu'elles peuvent dire leurs sécrets féminins en paix
Les hommes ne sont jamais saufs
Le pronom masculin ne leur protège point
Il peux y être toujours des invahiseuses

They borrow our clothes, our ways, our places
People have long since given up stopping them
Men will get used to it
Like we have with everything else
Men will not invade their turf in return
They are too well-defended
We may secretly envy what they have
But we do not want it
We cannot want it
It does not fit with us
Men already live in the best of all possible worlds
It's a privilege, so they say
And I agree
I wouldn't have it any other way

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(4/24) April is National Poetry Writing Month