beautiful, long-lashed baby girl
hair black and smooth, peruvian:
steel blue eyes.

mama has too many latin ******* to beat up
to enjoy your gentle burbles and smiles
too much hair to style
too many faces to kiss in pictures
that aren't yours.
gold chains and pursed lips and popped hips
her lifestyle,
though changeable,
leaves her unwilling.

too pregnant too early
too willing too early
i remember walking down streets with her
a child
telling me that she wanted to have ***.

she did finally,
and she had you.
for a few weeks, maybe.

i hope you live with your grandmother
and not with a stranger.
i hope your mother will apologize someday
for choosing to be wild
instead of loving
to one of the most beautiful baby girls
i have ever seen...

(just like her
mother)

take sips of immorality like it's a fine wine
that you've missed out on
for centuries
while it
cured

hold the throbbing handfuls
turn them in your palm
marvel at their warmth and wetness and excitement.

sample the platters brought before you
golden, rich, budding
pluck them before they waste away
and regret flowers in your closing irises.

dance rhythmically against him
the lingering taste still in your mouth
his sweat against your neck
hands gripping your back
savor the moments
that your laurel crown
makes your red cheeks glow.

all humans think they are the ******* ****
like we think elevated thoughts that trip across moonbeams
drift on clouds laced with estrogen and ******* sunshine
like we steer their course
when in reality
our elevation has nothing to do with the brevity of our infantile thought processes
that we believe are unique and something for others to wonder at
it's been ******* done before
someone already wrote a better poem about it, too.

don't stand on my shoulders and point out all the **** i can't see from down here
things unseen still exist
i'm not a tourist
in a poetic world you created
full of bleeding wrists and antidepressants
******* tell it how it is
don't elaborate
or don't
say anything
at  
all

i love it when you sing to me
straight melodies
floating two hours
to my attention-seeking limbs.

charmed lines traveling through digital thoroughfare
lighting up my bedroom
with our ALL CAPITAL LOVE AFFAIR
i'm okay with it

i'm past the point of wanting to be moral
i want to enjoy all the decadent sins that have danced on my t.v.
for decades
sampling the plump fruits and and round desserts
bubbling with juice and flavor.

all my life i've been told i would regret their taste
i would regret the moment it melted in my mouth
turning to ash
but it goes down smooth
and with rich taste
no trace
of ash or decay

morality is the illusion,
not sin.

fingers down my back
*** too fat
you like my thighs
and my lips
and my little quirks
i can be as silly as i want
and i love it
you're like him
without the abuse
am i allowed to say that?

turn right and think about happiness
as my broken sneakers walk me toward a mirror-image in the dark window.
i have never been so grateful to be away from someone
never so thankful that my biggest problem is an annoying girl
i almost giggle in my play
avoiding her in the halls
such trivial problems
am i allowed to be a child
now?