I Dreamed Goth Shaun Cassidy Saved Me From All the Sexists and Rapists
I dreamed goth Shaun Cassidy saved me from all the sexists and rapists.
But it was only a dream…only a dream…
Shaun was dressed all in black,
in a long-sleeved shirt
with buttons down the front,
several buttons open at the neck,
like the one James Spader wore
in Sex, Lies, and Videotape,
probably like the one Shaun’s wearing
under the pinstriped vest and tie
on the cover of the Under Wraps album.
His black eyeliner didn’t smudge
as a single sympathetic tear
slowly formed, turned into
a diamond and then a ruby.
Then he sprung to action,
grabbed a sword from the rack
on the brick wall of the dungeon
dimly lit with candles in sconces.
As sexists and rapists charged at him,
he deftly thrust his sword into their chests,
killing them swiftly, permanently.
“Take that!” he said.
“Die by my sword, you rogue,
you despicable cad!”
The more he killed, the more came at him—a swarm
of monstrous men saying terrible things I dare not repeat
lest their terrible words become even more entrenched in my brain.
I thought it would never end, that it would never be done,
that he would never be able to kill them all,
because there would always be more.
They wore various disguises:
some with hipster beards and tattoos;
some in dreadlocks wearing sandals and beads;
some impeccably groomed in expensive suits and shined shoes;
some in tweed jackets with patched elbows
or in science lab coats.
Some quoted poetry and philosophy.
Some flashed their money around.
Some bragged of their sexual prowess and physical strength,
some of their brains and accomplishments and wealth.
But then finally it was done.
He had killed them all.
We could finally be free
to walk in the gardens,
admire the flowers,
smell their sweet perfume,
smile at the chirping of the lovebirds
flittering in a flirtatious dance.
But it was only a dream…only a dream…