15 October 2008 | Vol. 8, No. 3

Triage for a Pre-Op Transsexual

by ZACH BUSCHER

You croon like Johnny, and you look like June.

To hear your thrilling trill, to take my stress

for one more song, shy son, I'll trade the moon,

your husky voice is best, I do confess.

St. Patrick here to snip your trouser snake,

but first be sure the surgery's not moot.

New parts are just the icing on a cake,

the treat is you in your Teutonic suit.

And when I'm done don't run away like Garbo.

There's still a swell of music left to play.

Stay off the streets that teem with horny hobos,

stay off your feet for maybe three more days.

I used to bring you rocks, now I bring rhinestones.

I used to bring you fire and fine cologne.