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You are a sundress. At the expense of other privileges, you are a power I could never exude. Can I still call you dude? If that's cool? ‘Cause I can never be the speckled rain on the rear window and on your face, hung out trying not to puke. Oh shoot! Like Mary and Elizabeth, already knew when you said that the baby had kicked. And all of the other boys are playing football on the wood chips. Well shit. It's just like Beyoncé said: “Who runs the world?” I might've felt more supported, like being across the room at a party from your best friend, when your eyes met. Even though I know I'll never be tank top texture or wear a dress that's just a really long sweater. We don't have to go to the bathroom together, and I don't mean to generalize a whole gender. Sometimes I just think that I might've felt better.