The Politically Incorrect Fantasy
The Politically Incorrect Fantasy hisself, in Hogeye, Arkansas
Have you ever had a fantasy come true
but you didn’t know it was your fantasy
until some time after you got it
because this fantasy was so far
from what you ever imagined wanting for yourself
that your conscious mind wouldn’t dream of it
so it simmered for years or decades
in your subconscious
every so often surfacing
as the inexplicable attraction to someone wholly inappropriate
in which case you hurried to cram it back into your mental basement
slamming the door as you ran to safety
After that it only came out in dreams
where you could tell yourself
– with all Jungian detachment-
that man with the gun in the black hat
actually represents my childhood rage
certainly not a literal attraction!
Like this you go on
fantasy submerged by political correctitude
since PC begins at home
the way you censor your dreams and fantasies
because they don’t fit the logic pictures you’ve painted yourself into
Then, one day you wake up to discover you’re madly in love with a
chain smoking meat eating redneck Republican macho man
who calls women girls and sleeps with a rifle and a crossbow under his bed
and you say
wait a minute
I’m a highly educated evolved sophisticated independent
left wing vegetarian feminist
this can’t be my fantasy!
but you notice how you can’t stop stroking and adoring him
and taking pictures
posing him
all hairy and shirtless
with
cowboy hat
rifle slung over shoulder
cigarette dangling from lip
You’re making him the god damn Marlboro Man!
and sending pictures to straight male-starved girlfriends in San Francisco
gloating
and intoxicated with inappropriateness
and your friends and family write letters
concerned about your diet, safety and sanity
and you’re wondering, too
cuz this fantasy has galloped far beyond your ability to control it
so you try breaking up with him
and you try not seeing him
but all you can do is think about him
and how this fantasy has subsumed all your rational fantasies of
appropriate men
because you thought Mr. Right had to be a
brilliant sensitive tofu-eating soul
who’s on good terms with his inner child
and suddenly that fantasy has all the appeal of a
stale rice cake
instead, you’re making love with Mr. Redneck Red Meat
who isn’t sure if that thang is a labia or an ovary
and it don’t matter cuz he sure knows how to make it sing
and the way he says boy howdy after you come
makes you melt like cheese on a Mr. Burger
where he took you for Valentines Day
and you were so touched
so touched
no red rose, five star Mr. Tofu serenade
coulda turned your crank no better
and now yer starting to talk like him
and you don’t even wanna fight it no more
so you go ahead and do the only logical thing
you saddle up
strap on your six shooter
and ride that pony til you find out
just what else your subconscious has been hiding from you
© Lisa Martinovic