A Well-Traveled Poem: #squadgoals


You’d think I’d be an expert on men by now,

Considering how many I count as friends.

Other women remain convinced I have insider trading secrets

I should do hard time for.


[I think we all know who the real criminals are here.]


If there are consequences to these actions, sign me up.

I may not understand how to navigate falling in love,

but I know a few things about loyalty and grace.

Men are not pigs or princes or heroes or villains.


{They sure are characters, I’ll tell you that.]


My supporting cast in the tragic comedy that is life:

they are gay, straight, Pacific Northwest, Midwest and dirty South.

Some know things I won’t admit about myself, others know surface pieces only.

Even the pacifists would probably throw a punch to protect me.


[I don’t care who you are, that’s sexy as hell.]


It keep me from begging for male attention,

this crew of people who me of my worth in both sentimental and silly ways.

I don’t need validation from strange of insincere men.

We got this. We run this.


[This is why I know I’ll never really die alone.]

s. jensen