His hands were callused and cracked
They were rough on my cheek
I had never been pulled in the way Clark Gable pulls them in
Like in all of those movies I had seen when I was a kid
The way I had always practiced
Back then my ringtone was the sound of bells chiming
More specifically the bells of Notre Dame
As his stubble grazed mine they rang out
He let go of my face, his untrimmed nails scratched my chin
I would weep for hours that night
Stare into the dark corners of my room
Trying to identify all of the shadows I used to think were scary
I knew now what scary really was
Scary was his hand on my rib cage
Scary was liking it
He never did call
I changed my ringtone to the whistle from Robin Hood
I was set up on a date by my best friend
She was kind
Her hands were soft and smelled like Love Spell by Victoria’s Secret
She had no stubble to graze mine
She pressed her lips on the scratch he left on my chin with his untrimmed fingernails
And I flinched
This too was scary
This too I liked
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
The real All-American Girl
Isn't likely to be a "Blue-Blood"......
A Descendant of European Royalty.
She's of mixed ancestry
And a product of cultural mixing.
She might eat tabbouleh and hummus in the morning
With ham and eggs.
She also lies at the intersection of traumas.
She's probably been raped
Either literally by a man
Or by the Onslaught of History
Which favors certain types of people over others.
She also lies at the Crossroads of Pain.
If she hasn't battled the Demons of Addiction,
She probably isn't sexy enough
To be an All-American Girl.
FEAR OF FLYING
I spread my wings - to the sky
And I fly high, so high - I get drunk
like a bird - in the night
I dance their dance - oblivious of my feeble self
But then, cold, cold wind hits my wings
And I fear falling to the ground
I wanted simply to be there - drink a little water to calm my thirst
I forgot my wings are essentially broken
And I might fall in any moment.
I. Marvelous Blarney
There once was a man from Killarney
Who looked like a lumpy Art Carney.
His cup, though, was brimmin'
With beautiful women
Because he spoke marvelous blarney.
II. Dirty Girl
There once was a horny young druid
Who watched as a woman bathed nuid.
She got out the tub,
And she gave him a rub,
And he slimed her with seminal fluid.
I. Lots of Luck
There once was an old Irish rover
Discovered a bright four-leaf clover.
He reached down to pluck it
And then kicked the bucket:
He bent down and died bending over.
II. Fairy Folk
A bonny young lassie named Mary
Fell hard for a laddie from Derry
Who never would try her,
But only passed by her,
A fairy in search of a fairy.
III. Boogers the Best
There once was a man from Racine
With boogers the best ever seen:
He'd pick one and lick it,
Then roll it and flick it
Till all of his fingers were green.
i’ve tried, alright?
you can’t imagine how long i’ve paced
there is a rut a mile deep in my carpet
where i dragged myself to and fro
trying to make sense of where i went wrong
i snapped my bones into building it
cracked elbows and knuckles trying to tear it deeper
with my questions and pleas to its depth as if
it could forgive me of my sins
i promise i didn’t want it
i tried my best to cleanse myself of it
prayed to god above on the sundays
that He could take bleach and wash me out
from tippy toe to the tip of my top
every piece of evidence was denied
for as long as i could hold it under the water
i held it down and tried to drown it
and some days i still think
that i should’ve gone back and tried again
one more minute would’ve killed it
if only i’d stayed
anyone else would have done it i’m sure
i caused this problem
the midwife at its birth was i
death i mislead when he came to the doorstep
and now the monstrosity lies on my hands
i am guilty as charged
but i am teaching myself to love
all the parts you hate