Sample encounters…

with female Homo sapiens, Phoenix, Arizona (ca. 2000 CE)

by Clifton Smith

Girl at Piano
by Roy Lichtenstein

Adolescent female twenty-somethings who wear loads of pink and leave deep scratches down your back
Grown-up girls who’ve seen every Disney cartoon and can sing each song in chronological order
Women children who find the idea of wild bees to be cute but who find the reality of wild bees to be stinging
Adult female children who have moves they use on you when they’re on top:  grind, grind, flip hair from side to side, run nails along inner thigh.  Repeat.
Baby grandmothers who are repulsed at the thought of cunnilingus and anal sex and so they wash infrequently as a deterrent
‘Fraidy little granny babies who turn the lights out and get way under the covers, to the dismay of peekers
Female creature semen extractors whose doting affection quickly gets aggravating but whose tendency to crumble when reprimanded gives them a kind of immunity from reprimand
Primal, sexual, tongue-flicking, gentlegirl seed thieves who sometimes, if your guard is down, for thousandths of a second, scare your organ stiff
Lady girls who can lie there for hours looking at you and grinning satisfactorily, thinking of you and the big, beautiful, glorious wedding you’ll have that will send people for miles around wandering into its: grandiosity, father, mother, dress, soul, love, butterflies, Elizabetharden, Helenarubinstein, diamondring, tieredcake, bridesmaids, BFF, beautiful works of European beauty art nature jasmine smart tough sexy elegant beauty art beauty art beauty art beauty art beauty art….


14 thoughts on “Sample encounters…”

  1. This is grand. However, not very kind if a feminist, because of labeling factors. I’ve found that most women have the same characteristics as all the women you’ve explained, except baby grandmothers. Women tend to be able to switch their forte with different men, and moods.

    I loved it.

    1. Maurice,

      Thanks for the support and insights.

      I hope I don’t come across as too unkind. Really, I would like to view myself as a feminist. I will point out, though, that the feminism I support is an outgrowth of humanism. Women, after all, are not the only victims of their oppression.

      A theme to this poem, I think, is that some adult female members of Homo sapiens may be “girlified.” When she becomes girlified, she may develop certain, probably unfounded, beliefs in the inherent benevolence of maternity, femininity and sacrificial wifehood. She may become complicit in her physical and sexual objectification. She may develop a kind of MPD to try to better confront different perceptions of moral and sexual expectations. Her moral and mental vision might be darkened.

      I hope I haven’t, in writing any of this, positioned myself as an adversary to the female human. Perhaps in the future I will find a way to express my generally high opinion of her better and to express my belief in the intellectual equality of the male and female human being. This, after all, is the characteristic I think is most important.

  2. Let the feminists hate me, but I think it’s fabulous. I find things that are the most shocking and/or funny are the most true. I hope it doesn’t say too much about me that I thought portions of this were really hilarious…

    1. Roz,

      You say, “I think it’s fabulous” and, “I thought portions of this were really hilarious.”

      Unfortunately, I do think your reactions say too much about you: you have very poor taste and you are not at all a good person. Furthermore, you have not a shred of decency.

      Welcome to my world.

  3. I’m so glad I’m not a good person. Life is much better that way. Please write another hilarious piece like this!!! Life in this small town is so boring, I need some cosmopolitan flavor from that cultural wasteland we call Phoenix.

    1. Roz,

      Sorry I haven’t returned lately with further hilarities.

      I have to say that I feel I’m a pretty unlikely source for cosmopolitan flavor! This morning, for instance, I had sex with three animals and a handful of very close relatives.

      I can’t help but think of a cosmopolitan as someone who views himself as a citizen of the universe, not just someone who is “worldly.” In the end, I strive to be both. Really, though, I often wonder if I’ll ever reach plain old “stately” or even “municipal.”

  4. The following is my response to your generalized characterizations about females from the greater Phoenix area.
    For every female stereotype, there is a male stereotype that is equally as cynical. Thus I bring you:

    Sample Encounters with male Homo sapiens, Phoenix, Arizona (ca.2000 CE)

    Boys who carry their egos in front of them, bumping into others, standing too close while breathing their intoxicant into your face
    Man-boys ask “where are you from?” and “you are so beautiful, where is your boyfriend tonight?” which translated means “I refuse to be creative in my attempts to fuck you”
    So young boy lays his hands on lower back, pushes his tongue into mouths, pries his way in, pressing on the back of your head as if attempting to drown you in waist deep waters; his quickness tells that he is afraid it will disappear if he does not move with aggression, weight falling once motivation is lost so that it can disappear
    Caveman boy whispers thoughts through squinting eyes and pursed lips while seeing extended belly and playing catch with his son in the front yard
    Claimed boy keeps bands on his finger while he breaks personal space, licking lips in speech, grinning like a predator in the wild then returning home to surer things
    Little weakling baby boy masquerades in oversized vehicles with thumping bass rattling windows and plaster cast testicals swinging in time from the back bumper
    Full grown “mama’s boy” man child waits for help, pouts through his failures, expresses his hurt and discord with temper tantrums, and forms fists at the ends of raised forearms intended for receiving arms, legs, and faces
    Masterful illusionist boy child has endless expressions of lexeme, is a smith of words, twisting himself around you hoping that mindfulness of the vulnerable hand behind his back will be ignored if this loquacious hand in front of your face can speak charmingly enough
    Baby boy sees himself in the mirror, smiling, flexing, pleasure, smirk, flex, smile, pleasure, flex, smile, pleasure, smile…

    1. Counter-responder,

      Thanks much for this!

      I hoped that I wasn’t making statements that are too generalized. Really, I think my sample from personal experience is much, much too small to attempt a real generalization. And, anyway, I don’t know how trustworthy my perception of my own experiences is.

      I hope I’m not cynical. I feel hopeful. I feel hopeful that I’ve learned something from the kind girls who’ve let me relate with them and I feel hopeful that they will move on to better and more fulfilling relations.

      I do not think, though, that the people I describe in my poem represent all girls or even all Phoenix girls.
      Well, I don’t always think that.

      Here’s an unfortunate type I might add to your list: Pubescent grandfathers that masturbate probably too frequently. Yeah, they’re often alone, but, after all, this room is only big enough for one person and his GIANT FUCKING THOUGHTS. They crave sex that they’re either too cowardly or too lazy to claim. They curse at other, sexually thriving youngsters under their breath. They blame their own failures on what they perceive as the possibly non-existent shortcomings of Phoenix women. Phoenix women don’t automatically come to them for sex. These squeaky-voiced granddads wonder why. They sit at home in their underwear, growing those beards out. They write poems for on-line magazines and have names that rhyme with “Smifton Clith”….

      By the way, what’s the vulnerable hand behind the masterful illusionist boy child’s back? Is that just any kind of vulnerability he’s trying to mask with loquacity? Also, is it bad to do that?

  5. Once one has outlined a series of common or stereotypical traits found amongst a group of objects, or in this case people, there follows somewhat of an assumption that the set of traits should be interpreted as exclusive to the said grouping that they describe or represent. By failing to include a type of disclaimer amongst your expression that would state that you “do not think, though, that the people (you) describe in (your) poem represent all girls or even all Phoenix girls,” one may have drawn the assumption that you in fact did mean to make generalizations about a broader group of females than just those in Phoenix. (My expressive response to your pro also failed to include such a disclaimer, although, it was partly intentional.)

    I appreciate the argumentive emotion that your piece brought out of me along with the strong desire to defend my gender against the stereotypes that promote women as needy, often immature, and unintelligent creatures simply on a mission for white picket fences. I also must thank you for your contribution of the “Pubescent grandfathers” description, and for using yourself to model for such a description.

    In response to your inquiry as to the “vulnerable hand” hidden behind the “masterful illusionist boy childs back”, my intention was to reference any kind of personal vulnerability that such a character would attempt to keep hidden, for fear that he would then be exposed to unfair criticism of his true person, or not accepted as “normal” (a trait that I have found to be common amongst most men that I have encountered).

    In my opinion, it is bad to do this, or at the least, unhealthy. Permitting those around you to see your vulnerability clearly is a distinction of what defines intimacy. Without intimacy or a revealing of honest thoughts and emotions, an individual may have feelings of loneliness, which can lead to levels of depression, which opens up a whole new conversation that I am not clinically competent or confident enough to participate in.

    1. Counter-responder,

      I hope you and others can forgive my ambiguities. I greatly appreciate the opportunity to clarify my position.

      Maybe I could’ve eliminated ambiguity with a more direct title: “A few experiences I’ve had with a few girls in Phoenix, Arizona.”

      Or, maybe, “A rough sketch of some mostly very nice women.”

      I will try to learn from your thoughtful responses, Counter-responder.

      Thanks for answering me about the vulnerable hand. I’m still interested in this. Do you think you could give an example of some of these hidden vulnerabilities?

  6. How to kill a poem?

    Justify/apologize/preface to hell & back…

    One hand a fist in front, the other: fingers crossed behind the back… I think that might be an aspect of the “hidden vulnerabilities” Counter-Responder is alluding to, Clifton.

    It’s poetry, don’t f*#king apologize.

    1. Justin,

      Thanks for the comment. Really, I meant my apology half-ironically.

      I respect readers too much to imagine that they consider poetry as being on par with peer-reviewed scientific research. Also, I know that anyone reading this poem will be familiar with the anecdotal argument fallacy. How do I know? Well, this is the Information Age. And, as I understand it, people now can and do spend all available time learning about every conceivable subject in hopes of nudging forward human evolution.

      Anyway, in case it’s not clear from looking at the poem and reading through the somewhat lengthy comments, I did keep the original title.

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