Conversations Over Dinner & A Boyz II Men Goodbye

8  .  21  .  96

Conversations Over Dinner & A Boyz II Men Goodbye

“no no… you talk about yourself”

& you pause to tell me that came out wrong

I understood.  No insult, no injury

“What I mean is that you talk around how you feel.”

through a mostly chewed mouthful of shrimp.

I guess I didn’t know

“now that I think about it, there are two of me”

you raise your eyebrow and put down your scallop

“There’s mousy me & the loud obnoxious me”

I’m the mouse tonight

pick, pick

“excuse me miss!  Could I have some more lemon?”

The evening is warm

and by hook or by crook we made it!

Well, we made half our plans

Quasi will have to wait

for video it seems

We hold hands on the drive to your car

You follow me home, the first time your car is in my drive.

As you step out of your car

“Do you really find it necessary to drive 85 down the highway?”

“Don’t be silly.  I was only doing 70.”

“No, that was definitely 85.”

“Huh...  My speedometer must be off...”

Clunk

I throw my shoes on the radiator

So I’m sitting on the couch

stretched out really

barefoot

with a blanket over my legs

with newly found VCR remote in hand

we play video clue

and candyland for ages 3-6

“Come on… Humor me.”

I whine and grumble

probably more than I should

but play

All the while I wonder many insecurities

will you honestly miss me?

Oh god I hope

one sided love is the pits

& we pseudo spoon

me on my back and you on your side

& it smacks me

right upside the head

how much I love your body and how you hold it against me

how well I know your eye color

            caramel brown and the lids just barely cover the pupils’ edge.

How good you smell tonight

these things I could never say

I’m awful with compliments

they always come out wrong

after you’ve warned me you’re turning the light on

we stand there

I want to cling to you, pretend I don’t have to leave

            I’m not actress and I can’t’ forget

my thoughts timed to a funeral dirge

“ya have a Boyz II Men cd?”

“No”

and I think, that was my graduating class’ song, or was it 94’s.

“Do you mean it?”

“what?”

“Your Boyz II Men reference.”

Silence

yes by default

we walk, disheveled, and more than a little sad

through my dark house

towards the all too symbolic looking front door.

I walk out with you

to your brand new car

            I’m so happy for you

            I’m so happy with you

I wobble a little, my bare feet on cement

your eyes are darker and at half mast

            from both sentiment and fatigue

neither of us want for you to open that door

that really would be goodbye

I think so loudly, I’ll miss you

“well,” you start, “we’ll always have e-mail”

you and I both give a well educated laugh

not enough

“that is” I declare “I’m sending you a phone card.”

that seemed to go over well.

Somewhere, I forget exactly when

but you who closes up tight

rarely lets down your guard

admit to me first, in a real voice,

“I love you.”

I am stunned I am shocked

I hold you closer and confess the same

“Now, no messing around at school.”

“ok”

“Well, I don’t know what you want...”

“you.”

“huh?”

“I want you.”

sigh

I made you swear and promise me

            no cheerleaders

and you argued that if you couldn’t have cheerleaders

I could have no lesbians.

Agreed love.

You’re tired and you work at noon

but my spirits rise when

you swear you’ll try extra hard

to rise from the dead to see me off in the pre-dawn morning

I’ve never had a send off

not a welcome home crowd of 1-20

it’s hope

assurance that I matter

you climb in your car

kiss me once more and I step back just to look at you

you mouth the words

“I love you” and I

“I love you too.”

knowing it must end sometime

you start your car and I turn around

clutching the always-too-long sleeves of my dress

I walk through my front door as you pull through the gate

I turn out the lights and lock the door

closure

for the evening, only the evening.

My last 3:00 a.m.  getting home night is over

I walk upstairs to my room

and the stairs creak as usual

my room, I grab a shirt and boxers

change

a sophomore in college

18 years old & I grab my teddy-bear

surrogate

I climb in bed

& lay on my side

fetus like

my left hip is tight

reminding me of the shot in the arse

I got for when I come home

Lisa’s quote comes to mind and I smile

looking forward, past the future,

to them both.

Till next & ever

he watches her

as she folds at the waist and grabs her feet

her hair slides over itself as she looks up

the dimmest ray of light

refracts in her eyes

tonight, they are watery blue

she gives him that womanlook

endearing, I love you, melt with me

from and independent part-time feminist

already, you own me

so long as I can

you

body, mind, soul

I work with you

you laugh with me

I teach you what I know

you spoil me rotten

Juliet is Bleeding

This was written about a sexual encounter between myself and someone I didn't love, but who began to fall for me.  Circa 1998.

Juliet Is Bleeding

& Romeo is stained

he hobbles, bare-assed across the room

the clock ticks off another minute

the dark morning hides

flushed faces and adrenaline charged legs

he only now, it, the knowledge dawns

she, head shaking, thinks, that was a mistake

as she anthropomorphizes herself from the bellybutton down.(she and hers surprises me

she hides for a day and then springs)

she, the dom, begs for forgiveness

he plops down on the dismantled couch

in the dark, quarterlight, his tooth gleams with his smile

swimming in the experience, he druggedly responds,

I don’t mind, really

honest and true

he, towering as he stands

hugs her petite, half-naked form

almost, he whispers, “I love you” into her mussed hair

she returns the hug, her mind half there

she wanders through the events

damn, now he’s going to fall in love

she grumbles in her mind

            Juliet is sick of cheese

He, Romeo of 19

a survivor of the dagger after the curtain

will grow to be a cuddler

Juliet has swallowed her bottle of ground callous

& rolls over to sleep

he holds her body

unsure of what to do, but content to never move again

she sleeps a dreamless sleep

and wakes beside him

rises from her place to shower and brush her teeth

business & pleasure

pashaw to love

Juliet is bleeding more than blood

Untitled - Late 90s

almost as if i expect it

hours before

i ready

as if i were going to be presented to royalty

though it’s only queens

i ready

make myself small

and quiet

so i can hide in my corner of the round table

and not stir up any sediment hormones

making it easy for them

the clitoris piranhas

who’d skeletonize my protest

so i’m too weak to stand

wiggle wiggle

laugh and point

the lone face

who’s red with shame and anger

those boys who’ll grow up to be sex-starved men

by their choice or ours

the women

but i dread

treading lightly

chewing silently

bowing my head so thy can’t meet my eyes

they with their jokes as stale as 3 day old cum

drawing my aura in as tight as a quilt

the real life incredible shrinking woman

who could, but doesn’t

who sits and takes it

for being a girl

boys who grow up to be boys

who’s hand me downs are only clothes

who don’t shed their piggie-tail yanking and circle-jerks

like foreskin

who are dirty

and nervous

who laugh to hide their shaking hands

for a woman

who takes offense inside her

ad lets it be

we all will take it in

sometime

forget to reject

shining strobe disk

flippity-flip

an excuse to look at a girl and watch her breast

follow follow

little lemming lovers

over to where men who think like you pool

for money or sex

fall fall

over self-made

paper-mache cliffs

rocky jagged loneliness below

and ambient mood-music the crash of empty surf

the tears that fall

from the end of their penisi

i yell and i scream

and only my parrot echo responds

repeating the words once more

before they drop for the beak

with a wet thud on the ground

at them

at them!

my words tumble and slosh like a waterfall

that pours over the table

from where i was standing

up in front of my chair

and the cold words, like arctic water

defeats me

arousal

as if any woman would sell their sex

for on night with one of them

men are boasters

and the louder they scream it

the less those who fall beneath them will

oh the trumpet sounds

the braggarts and the betters

rape me with your threats

make me eat your words

force me grasp your concept

because i am weaker

and i have a place for you

and round nubs

to catch your teenage first-time balance with

you are so dry and crooked

to only like what you can win

try me

will you stand for me

when i fight back

was it the weaker side that made your blood rush?

will you joke and grab

after i back up my no

with blood on my hands

In reading this, I almost believe that it sounds like living in the shadow of sexual assault.  While I have never been raped, it's as if I had a victim in my head when this was written.  Also, I'd like to note that I didn't grow up to be a man hater.  I swear.