In the summer of 2001, the deeply feminist author J.R. Norton gave a reading in Boston, Massachusetts. After the reading, he was not approached by a beautiful young woman who wanted to have sex with him. The encounter seared him, and led him to write this powerfully reflective piece of prose poetry.

Do not be my groupie
by J.R. Norton

Do not be my groupie
I am not so great
not necessarily deserving
of your warmth,
your soft blue eyes
your large, cantaloupe breasts
shaped like cantaloupe,
that famous melon,
which is often served with whipped cream.

At least at my house.

Do not be my groupie
the hotel room can be cold
and the room service, expensive
and I'm certainly not picking up the bill

after all, YOU were the one
who wanted to sleep with me.

In fact, could you pick up the tab?
I'm just going to have Cream of Wheat
and maybe some orange juice.

That's only like six bucks.

Do not be my groupie
unless you like bars and burdens,
whips and chains,
and pulsing red
hot wax.

Metaphorical?
No, that wasn't meant to be metaphorical.
What do you mean, "are you joking?"

Oh, okay
you can be my groupie
But there is something you must do:

Be your own groupie,
first.

Admire yourself from afar
Get turned on by your own fame, your own aura
Push a note or room key into your own sweaty palm
And wait, trembling
For yourself.

Only then can we sit down and talk –
as equals –
about hittin' the skins.

b a c k   t o   t h e   i n d e x