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Mimi Jan 2012
We went out to dinner and you ordered my favorite
when it came, we switched plates
because you knew I’d change my mind.

We walked into your friends house looking for some beer
instead they pulled out a sweet little baggie
filled with don’t-say-it-out-loud-named drugs.
Everyone gets big stupid smiles watching Rodger
cut it in lines on the table.

I’m trying to tell you with my eyes that my heart is beating faster
than it’s supposed to
that I am in no way comfortable here
please please take me home *******
and you told my eyes out loud,
“Yeah but I’m gonna do it anyway.”

(Full blown panic attack. It’s what you do to me
baby.)

Leaning over the table like you’re about to get ******
(that was mean, but I am mad),
inhale deeply through that roll of paper.
I’m watching you sourly from the couch
whispered into your ear
“when you come down, you’re taking me the **** home”
(this entire poem goes in The Swear Jar)
instead we had makeup *** upstairs and
I flirted with all your friends.

I guess it got later. The party started going,
some Taylor kid’s speaking in my ear
“That boyfriend of yours, does he love you?”
“Not at all” (I’m a flirt but at least I am honest)
Told me to call him when I shake off the loser.

How can I shake off this loser?
How could I give away the boy (man?) who orders
my broccoli cheddar soup
so we can switch bowls
after my disillusioned moment
of chicken noodle wanting.
He carried me to bed again, and held me when I woke up
crying.
We listen to Neil Young in the car on our way out to the woods
he said
“What a sad man…his Mimi went away.”
running his hands through my hair.

This is my excuse:
you don’t know a person, until
you have gone through their medicine cabinet.
They say.
Mine have prescriptions
You’ve had to find yours yourself
to find yourself.  But now I think
it’s time to grow up, or die real young.
It’s not my problem.
I think I maybe should stop it with this
problem.
Mimi Jan 2012
Lying on top of you breathlessly panting
(2am, nonexistent sleep schedule)
I almost said “I love you” which turned into
“I love...how you make me feel” you knew it
and I knew it. I almost ******* up.

When we wake up
(11:27, barely made it to morning)
you get in the shower and I stay in bed.
The morning feeling never lasts long, soon
you’re on the phone making plans you can’t tell me about;

illegal. Many thousands of dollars.
“Don’t tell anyone baby. Shouldn’ta asked questions”
But who would I tell?
You’re my favorite person here.

Long day, back in bed. I made you a fake pie
(12am, pudding and peanut butter in the fridge)
after you took me to see the puppies
(I didn't even have to ask twice to go).
Curled up around you I kiss your tattoos,
the picture you drew, inked into your skin,
of the woman you’ll marry
(you’ll have her colored when you meet the girl)
and you whisper you might get a few more curls added
a little more brown in her hair
but her eyes and her nose,
already match mine.

You started snoring
I turned on my side and had a panic attack.
Mimi Jan 2012
Asbestos infected living;
I am the saddest ******* earth.
Mimi Jan 2012
I.

Drinking on a Tuesday is just a Tuesday here.
When you wouldn’t walk me home for my contact case
I cried like the rummed-up little girl I was (am)
walking back to your place on the train tracks.
It was the first time since I moved here I’ve been able to cry;
so it all came down in snot and salt.
Every last thing. The pressure and my father and depressive
tendencies, my mother won’t see me. blurted on the grimy floor of your bathroom
I couldn’t get up for sobbing.
How I don’t love you. And I’m not going to love you.
But I don’t think you’re going to love me either
(I didn’t say that out loud).
You held me anyway;
shame. because no one sees me like this.
This is the way that I am
When my contacts fell out
I stuck them in saline filled shot glasses and you told me to blow
my nose on a paper towel. Then undressed me like I was two again
and held me while I cried myself to sleep.

II.

Sometimes you’re at your lowest
curled up naked in a helpless bed
inadequate with nerves and pressure
so we just talk about our lives
and I hold you, and you cling to me
It’s more intimate than *** anyway.
About my weak ankle and your broken wrist,
our families, all the times we’ve been
kicked out of our homes.
One day you might come home
and listen to the jazz music in June with me
we’ll take a picnic and meet my families
One day I might go to your home
and climb the tree on a cliff
eat beef and broccoli with your uptight step mother
and see all the walls you’ve painted in the city
all the secret underground sewers painted with your name.

III.

Sat on a still plane in the gentrified south
panicked about what exact day it was that month.
One day too late. Which is when you start to worry.

We love so young and free,
but I know you don’t really love me.

We’ve got big, big plans that don’t include each other.
No mistakes can hold me down to you, nothing.

I am meticulous with foil packets and times.

My sweet artist, I don’t know how to ask
why you stick around, if you’re following my rule,
if you’re in it a little bit for my brain too.

I’ll charm your friends and make sure you get your hair cut.
You’ll teach me to brew your coffee and smoke a pipe

As long as you don’t love me,
I don’t love you.
Mimi Jan 2012
I wonder how I got here, secluded in a grimy apartment filled with smoke. We drink gin and tonics with mint like it’s the ‘20s; we sit and talk pop culture because we know. Taj has somehow become the effective authority on all of these things, paid to social network and connected to Hollywood; he’s very skilled at playing to people’s wants. My Cadillac sits intent next to me markering in a recent drawing for his newest class. He’s already famous for his graffiti, one day I’ll bet you this extra credit project will be worth money. He drew me a fox for Christmas. Valentines day is coming up. He never tells me he loves me. Jack is watching me watch him out of the corner of his eye while putting on a new remix of an old song. He leans over and asks if I like it and I nod. I feel bubbled up with *** smoke, frozen in time and vaguely uncomfortable. I’d guess this is what it’s like to be “too high.” I want Caddy to notice, but it’s Jack that’s pushing my hair back and telling me to drink more water. It’s sweet. Despite his need to be seen as a womanizer, Jack respects Caddy too much to even try with me, he looks but he doesn’t put on any faces for me. Everyone thinks so hard about how they’re seen.
Jack says his New Year’s resolution is to do less *******, even though no one asked. Everyone hears but no one reacts. I try to keep moving my toes and stop shivering. Across from me Ky and Nate are reading the encyclopedia in open-mouthed awe. In a room full of intellectual up and comers I feel like Hemmingway did when he was my age, how all the minds gravitate to each other and sit in a ***** room by the beach and let the creativity go. Like Mary Shelly and the whole gang writing Frankenstein and Dracula in the same trip.  After a while I think Taj is going to make it, Jack will be a politician and Caddy will be lost and with another woman. Ky and Nate will still be smoking and reading the encyclopedia, all the way down to ‘z’. I am like my mother: attracting the company of smart successful men who pay her selective attention.
The door burst open and the cold air stayed in my pores after it was closed. Rodger invited himself over. It would have been all right but when Rodger is wasted he forgets his manners. In his animated state he managed to kick over Caddy’s favorite smoking piece, insult Jack and look at me a little too hard. His girlfriend had immediately passed out on the couch, but she never smiled or spoke to me anyway. Her head was cradled in the lap of a girl I hadn’t noticed. Her hair was perfect and her eyes shadowed, the liner and mascara smudging its way slowly onto her high cheekbones. She stared at me but didn’t speak. I tried to smile, but didn’t want to give away the champagne sensation covering my skin, still too up to speak. She had already formed her opinion of me, some young ******* the arm of an older boy. She was once in my position, I’m sure of it, we are the same kind of beautiful and empty eyed. That doesn’t stop her from judging, in the total of 15 seconds she looked at me. Her self is tamed and mine is wild still. Unintroduced and unnoticed by the men in the room, we have an understanding and a mutual dislike of each other, only to defend ourselves.
The room takes time to settle, a bowl has been packed for an entitled Rodger, and now that everyone is calm, Cad sits back down and puts his arm around me again. I lean into him, protected and anchored, whereas I had been floating or about to puke a minute ago. I don’t know what I said but Caddy seemed annoyed when he said “Just let it happen, embrace the feeling,” and so I kept quiet for ten minutes or so. The high was infected with guilt. Next time he looked at me-- it could have been an hour—I whispered, “I can’t” and finally he heard me, and stood up.
Cad came back into my vision with a glass of water and turned on Drive, prompting Rodger, Mrs. Rodger and my pretty enemy to leave. Ky and Nate had gone long before I could focus on noticing. Taj left for trivia night down at the bar and no doubt some girl; wrapped up in a cashmere scarf and cardigan he kissed my cheek before he went. Jack also took his graceful leave with the Rodger group to woo some girl who knew exactly what she was doing to herself. He did have a straight nosed charm, Jack. I could not blame this girl, one of many (I am embarrassed for her; I have been like this ******* many occasions).  
Taj had been sent the advanced copy of Drive in blu-ray, so we snuck it from his room and watched it that way (the only way Taj would see movies now, it is the future (for now)). Kavinsky came through Cad’s new speakers the boys had spent half an hour trying to wire earlier in the night. “They’re taking about you boy/but you’re still the same” crooned Lovefoxxx as Ryan Gosling cruised down a street, ****** intense in driving gloves. Gears shifting and motors growling are very ****, I tell Cadillac so into his ear, as he pulls me into his arms and covers me up with a blanket.
The movie was perfect, maybe because it made me feel less dizzy and sickguilty (Cad knew it would) and maybe because Ryan Gosling can wear a white satin jacket. I loved it, hardly noticing when the absent roommate Travis strolled in with Taj and tacos somewhere around 2am.  Colder as Caddy got up for a burrito, left me alone on the couch for the kitchen table. Registering Taj taking his place, playing with my curls and talking Hollywood to me. I’m staring over at Cad in his chair, he makes eye contact once or twice and I blow him a kiss before Taj repositions my head toward the television and my ear back where he can speak into it.
Eventually Cadillac taps Taj on the shoulder and motions for him to get up. With Cad back I can relax and I fall into sleep just as the movie ends. Taj and Trav have gone to their own beds and Cad leans over me, picks me up and takes me to bed knocking my elbow on the doorframe along the way. He apologizes and kisses my head but I am too tired to care. He lays me down on the bed with crimson sheets and takes off my boots but then sternly says, “Mimi, you are not a child.” and so I must get up and undress myself. He wraps me in a duvet missing its cover and his arms. I trust him long enough to fall asleep.

-

Standing in front of the stove it was hot, but I am easily overheated. He came up behind me and said in my ear, “you’re lovely” watching me put the last piece of French toast on the large stack, getting ready to scramble eggs. He kissed my cheek. Then my neck and then my lips, taking me away from my cooking to be pulled against him, for a sweet short minute and went back to the living room with his friends. Jack had mysteriously reappeared in the night; he said he locked himself out of his apartment after leaving to see one of his girls. Taj just sat and blasted Radiohead over the new speakers, shouting something relevant at me. I scramble the eggs and make up plates, two pieces of toast each and a nice healthy pile of eggs. It is gone very quickly and no one says thank you, except for a smile from Caddy and a kiss on the forehead. It’s usually enough for me, knowing he likes to show me off to his friends. I sit down with my cup of coffee and plate, within a few minutes Cad suggests he takes me home. I resentfully take time to finish my coffee. But we are both busy and he is right, so I say goodbye to the boys and gather my things. We drive with the “best MC on the game these days” (so I am told) over the weak speakers of the car. Cad drives with his arm around me always. Cruising into my building’s parking lot I lean over for a kiss on my forehead, nose, lips. He says go, but his hand still sits on my shoulder so I stay for a little longer. “You’ll probably have to let go of me if it’s time for me to go Cad,” I say quietly, with a tentative smile on my face. He grins back and lifts his arm. I slide out of the suicide seat and smile at him, but he’s looking at the radio dials. Then my face. His eyes give him away, softened around the edges with affection. Maybe love, but he’d never say it and I refuse to say it until he does. I try not to think about it much as he drives away to smoke up again with his friends. I wonder if this is how it will always be, but then I realize our kind of “always” is only the next few months. I turned unsteadily and walked up the stairs to my empty room—dark and overheated smelling heavily of sugar and spice candles-- with the geese outside my window for company. I haven’t slept here for days.
Mimi Dec 2011
Sometimes I forget
I don't celebrate Christmas
like everyone else.

Many times I think
it would be much easier
to be just like you,

And not field questions:
"Do you also celebrate
Thanksgiving, like us?"

I am simply a
Jewish American girl.
Yes I am different.

Not so much different
That you should tip-toe around.
Like you, I'm human.
Get it? It's a series of haikus!
Mimi Dec 2011
I am twice the size of my mind
a half zipper from being undressed
They say kids with higher IQs do more drugs
because we’re looking for something
there’ve been studies but
I haven’t found anything yet
I’m just shivering dizzy confused lying on your bed
not going to puke.
In your arms you’ve got me safe for some reason.
It takes all my effort to lift my head “What?”
“You’re lovely” you whisper
that’s not what you said the first time I think.
“even now?”
“Sleep, baby”
I always had a thing for boys tellin' me what to do.
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