Somehow, Sweet Lady

(how is a mystery yet)

I want to know you

beyond the confines of words

in a setting

(perhaps a magical bower)

where we can escape
the compromise of language,

(a magical bower does sound nice);

where we communicate
like trees in the wind
or tulips touching
on a breezy day in spring.

A place where a glance,
a touch or a smile says it all.

Where words do not
confound understanding.

(Definitely a magical bower!)

I am going to pursue this
(though it's an odd task
for a poet to undertake).

I'll post an ad on Craigslist:

Seeking magical bower for two:
must be a circle of silence
where gesture and touch reign.

And we will go there and live

(in that magical bower)

in our own quiet knowing
with nothing more to say
than what can be said
by the enchanted music of bodies,

(in a magical bower)

where I can love you
as hushed and completely
as those trees, those tulips.

   ~mce

I'm not.

My Dad thinks I should
be out burning bras
showing off unshaved legs
parading through the streets "like the gays."

I do not.

I remember talking in highscool
about my imaginary rich husband,
and never working again.

                                                My Dad does not.

He remembers panicking in hischool
telling me not to be a cheerleader
asking "why can't girls play on he football team?"

                                  My Dad does not realize,

I don't want to burn my
Victoria's Secret push up bra,
I want to shave my legs.

My dad thinks
the only person who
can decide whether
or not
to keep a baby
is a woman.

I do not.

A baby-life
is created by a
man and a woman.

It should take a
man and a woman to decide.

                               My Dad does not realize it,

He thinks I am a product of
the patriarchy,
a victim to the crime.

but,

I don't want to
march down the streets of Boston,
****.

Because I know some women,
cry **** when its a lie.

I know some men,
who cant cry
for help,
because **** is a woman's issue.

                    My Dad does not realize it hurts,

because
I am not a feminist,
I am an equalist.

I believe in
mutual respect,
choice,
balance.

Stay at home moms
and
Stay at home dads.

   My dad does not realize it hurts the cause to be a "feminist"

My dad is a feminist,
I am not.

Whether it's type 1
Or type 2
Life is a bit more difficult for you.

A broken piece of the machine,
Blood sugar monitor supreme.
A cure for diabetes is the dream.

Eating healthy and exersizing,
Won't cure everything,
But scientists and doctors are waiting.

For the cure of a lifetime
One that gives a lifetime,
This year might be the right time.

Walking for awareness
Fundraising for a cure
We are DiaBeaters for sure!

You don't have to love me
just because you are
the most woman
I have ever imagined possible
or because your eyes
speak an unknown language
only I can understand
or because your toes
are in need of kissing
or because I can't
stop thinking of you
long enough to sleep.

Those are only my reasons.

Certainly,
you don't have to,
but I would be pleased
if sometime, somewhere,

you did.

  ~mce