The summer of Dykezilla
officially began When Janice
found the rubber velociraptor
mask and pulled it over her head:
Dykezilla at the beach in swim trunks
and an inner tube. Dykezilla sniffing
cantaloupe, sitting in the dentist’s chair,
at the drive-through teller
in her convertible, ordering takeout,
on a park bench scattering seed. Dykezilla
with the dog’s head in her toothy
harmless mouth.
We have the stills on the wall. They’re
fading, aged by sun, but light still winks
in Dykezilla’s sunglasses
perched on her scaly rubber rostrum —
pinup girl, wonder woman, superhero
here to save us, to show us what to laugh at
and who gets to laugh.