The current heartthrob,
In a long line of men,
And the goodbye speech
Hearing it all over again.
Said it wasn’t working
And I knew it as well.
Pretending he loved me
For him must have been hell.

By this time in my story
I had learned the ropes.
Neither of us felt we had to
Act like a couple of dopes.
We could divide up the music
The dishes and the clothes.
It didn’t work out this time.
That’s how it always goes.

We picked each other
Because we looked good
And felt things would click
And turn out like they should.
Before long we discovered we
Didn’t have similar dreams.
Two on different tracks together
Is not as easy as it seems.

It happened so many times
I became an expert at it
Because I had no ability
To effectively combat it.
It was love me and leave me
For too long of a time.
As if getting to know each other
Was some kind of a crime.

It would be years before I noticed
How I approached this love task.
They had to guess what I wanted.
It was no good if I had to ask.
That had to figure what I needed
And then they must give it to me.
That was the story every time.
That was my romantic M.O., see?

Today I know it was a stupid game
Like wishing for a dream to come true.
And it didn’t matter one little bit
How many others did the same thing too.
I discovered it wasn’t about good looks
Or some kind of storybook ending.
It’s more like an intense version of us
Becoming friends, our lives blending.

Maybe after sighting
Each other buck naked
That ends the fighting
About whose is bigger
Or whose are real.
There ceases to be a trigger
Of envy, or competition,
As being clothes free
One is in no position
To hide behind frippery.

It is difficult to be snobbish
About your fabric and style
When all you are wearing
Is a sun hat and a smile.
Acting like you are a ****
Of taut body and shape
Wearing nothing but a sock
Makes you a target of japes
About getting over yourself
And maybe even getting real.
It really is that kind of situation;
That basic kind of reality deal.

Most of what is artificiality
Disappears when you’re ****.
It gets easier to face reality
And much harder to be rude.
We quickly see that we are
We are sisters and brothers
And we do not need to live
By rules of fathers and mothers.
They were taught to be afraid
Of body parts called ‘naughty bits’;
Words like ‘nasty’ and ‘stop that!’
You adults can say, ‘I want none of it.
I’m through with thinking my crotch
Is something evil, sick and twisted.
Take my genitalia out of the book
Where you have sinfulness listed.
I exist as nature has made me
And it is wrong of you to correct
The natural person as I was born
Being a ***** is just a side-effect
Of being raised by people who
Were never raised quite right.
Maybe if everyone were ****
That would end the need to fight.

Ten words are not enough
To explain life is tough

Just another fool
trying to act cool
another street punk
out to steal your junk
he flashes his blade
your fate has been made
plunges in the knife
and there goes your life
another widowed wife
hands soaked in blood
just misunderstood
no time to plea insanity
hoping for some humanity
and what does he get?
A life for a life?
A knife for a knife?
No!, thirty to life
but still out in five
on the streets to rule
back being the fool
to claim another life.

I was thinking of a poem
About a girl I saw
With a starved face
Eyes bulging
Teeth protruding
A screaming skeleton of despair
I saw her and thought
I could love you...
But that was interrupted
By a poem about a new fondness
For sleeping pills
Numbness
I once tried to cry at night
But couldn't
And I felt like a real
******* for even trying...
I walked into the bathroom
And threw a few jabs
And right hooks
Into the mirror
I thought
I'm 5'7
145 lbs
Just like Barrera, Morales, Chavez
All the great Mexican fighters
I walked out and thought of quotes
By Fante, Sartre, something Hemingway said
I looked at all the people around me
And thought
They couldn't quote anybody
Jesus Christ!
What the hell do THEY think about?
It must be terrifying!
They don't read
They don't scream
They don't fight
They don't go on drinking binges
Where's the scars?
Where's the passion?
Where's the life?
But then I noticed
They were all smiling
Talking
Laughing
Walking
Together
I suddenly felt a massive
Heaviness
Upon me
I noticed it had been there
All along
Maybe
I've been doing it all wrong

The scariest part of
This loneliness
Is how much
I don't seem
To mind it