Kris Kristofferson

Liked his women with an air

Of unrestrained musicality,

As free as the free-spirited

Bobby McGee,

Who pretty much risked her life

Hitching them a ride

(Do you know how many people

Have been murdered that way?),

And expressed her love

Through someone else’s songs,

And exited quietly at stage right

Before he even got to know her,

Without explanation or reflection

(Probably because she soon was murdered…),

Leaving him sorrowful but in love–

The way a good fantasy

Woman does.


But when a real woman, self-assured,

Wrote her own sorrowful songs,

Unrestrained by regret or shame,

With the nuance of a self-aware adult

Reflecting upon the men she had loved,

And sharing with us all

An intimacy unparalleled–

The sadness of having a daughter

And not being able to be her mother–

And painting with words

An entirely new picture

Of what being human is really like

–he didn’t find it quite so charming.


“God Joni,” he said, “save something for yourself”,

As if he had the right to stop an icon in her tracks,

To tug her back into line,

As if saying that didn’t make him

A supreme ass.


What am I Today?

Check all that apply

    • A virginal sweetheart you’ll treat with respect?
    • A fragile creature you must protect?
    • A child to whom you must explain?
    • Meat over which you’ll salivate?
    • The pretty young thing you want to fuck?
    • Begging for you to touch my butt?
    • A magic vessel to bear your sons?
    • Over-emotional (must be that time of the month)?
    • Hysterical? Doctor knows the trick…
    • The slut you’ll tell to suck your dick?
    • The heartless bitch who walks away?
    • Something for you to dominate?
    • Less a person than a goal?
    • The succubus who’ll steal your soul?
    • A witch who’ll tempt you with my gaze?
    • Fickle betrayer, lying in wait?
    • Eve, the apple, the tree, and the snake?
    • Something less than the sum of its parts?
    • Every woman who’s ever broken your heart?
    • Your mother, your sister, your daughter, your wife?
    • Your manic pixie dream of me, existing just to light up your life?
    • …Maybe, finally, just myself?