In the bathroom, the change began --
Not from a can,  
but a bottle  
with a model  

advertising the bold color  
on the cover
Stirring toxins --
a concoction  


of basic, mindless chemistry.
Identity  
changed – simply by
mixing hair dye.

The jester free styled about dealing grams under the tainted Charleston moonlight – Drug scene.
Whenever we discussed the existence of God, it always ended in a fight – The unseen.

The harlot was always type casted as the Rizzo, never the Sandy.
Who could forget those black leather pants, oh so tight – Street corner scene.

The king flirted with the innocent freshmen girls, unaware of the imminent restraining order.
He would joke about using the effervescent glow of his skin as their flashlight – Obscene.

The fair lady believed Tolkien was the closet humanity could ever get to godly perfection.
She was infamous for always tripping over the set, a common plight – Off scene.

The wizard dreamed one day to be the first black James Bond, code name Black Mamba.
One day he told me he liked women and men, except the whiney boys of white – Epicene.

You, the minstrel, sang the words to “Baby Got Back” in your high-pitched voice backstage.
You often told us “rawr” is dinosaur for I love you and everything will be alright – End scene.

I, the queen, tried to hide behind the black velvet curtain paralyzed by my stage fright.
But now, I just wish you hadn’t crashed your car into the tree that night – Unforeseen.

The chocolate ringlets on her head bounced up and down,
So innocent and carefree.
It was obvious her mother had picked out her outfit:
Black shorts with white polka dots,
Classic pink trim on her matching white shirt,
A laughing ice cream cone printed on the front.

She skipped down the street.
Her pristine white Keds scuffed from constant wear and tear in her Aunt Becky’s backyard:
Digging in the sandbox with her cousins,
Swinging on the rundown red swing,
Hiding in the tall, uncut weeds they called grass.

“Ready or not here I come!”

I held her small, pale hand in mine,
One of the many things she had gotten from my side of the family,
We had hoped she would have gotten her mother’s olive skin,
But we had hoped for a lot of things, hadn’t we?

I ushered her into the restaurant out of the brisk October air.
Her bright blue eyes reflected light from the laminated kid’s menu
And also deep concentration as she struggled to read it’s simple words.

She would be smart one day, I could just tell.
I imagined her walking down the aisle in her black cap and gown,
Shaking the president’s hand with one hand,
And receiving the college diploma I never got in the other.

“Mac ’n Cheese, please!”

She always ordered the same meal,
No matter how long she debated over whether to get the chicken fingers or the pizza.
But I guess that’s how kids are right?

Predictable.

Or maybe dependable is the better word?
She was my first born,
A trial run.
I was learning as I went.

As she finished off her bright orange pasta,
I handed her a small blue bag,
The words “Happy Birthday!” printed on the side in rainbow colors.
I hadn’t bothered wrapping it.
A bag just seemed easier.

Pulling out the tissue paper,
The single dimple in her left cheek appeared,
The same one that mirrored mine.
I wish that dimple could have remained there forever,
But I knew nothing could last forever.

“Angel, mommy and daddy are getting a divorce.”

White polos and navy blue pants and skirts paraded through the narrow classroom door.
Red and yellow chairs pushed back from the small wooden desks,
Neon tennis ***** stopping them from scuffing the floor.
"Waxing floors is so **** expensive,"
The principle whispered to the wide-eyed teacher.
Backs turned to the large ears on the small bodies.

Nose deep into the latest Barnes & Noble purchase,
Fear struck me as the two gray haired women ushered me into the hall
Where two navy blue pants and one navy blue skirt stood,
Eyes mirroring each other’s knowledge.

“Now apologize.”

Embarrassment burned red in the six cheeks
That mumbled confessions to their victim
A victim unaware she had been voted most blessed in the chest
Oblivious to the whispers of nerd, pizza face, and giraffe
Brace face, frizzy haired freak, and loser

Friday’s vocabulary quiz asked what the definition for friends was.
I left it blank.

I hate all nighters
Stress and anxiety ****
I give up, good night.

I'm in love with the idea of you.
So let me know if that idea is true.
What's behind those eyes of baby blue?

For the image you keep is quiet pristine,
Handsome, strong, and squeaky clean.

So while you have all the check marks on my list,
I need to know the true you if I may persist.

I don't want these feelings to be merely a crush.
But boy, that smile of yours turns me to mush.

With your golden locks and casual air,
Try though I may, I can't help but stare.

I just want to hug you and run my fingers through your hair.
And if you don't mind, call you my big teddy bear.

Crushes are stupid. They make me feel lame.
Because getting your attention just seems like a game.

A smile's worth a hundred points, a wave plus two or three,
But minus ten for when you look away without even noticing me.

Acquaintances barely friends, that's all I am to you,
But I still hope that one day, I'll find out what's behind those baby blues.

A minute
A minute is all I have to write this poem
To write this rhyme
To live this life.

Tears fall like diamonds
Flowers float away
The sun is brightly shining
The world slowly decays

Life is but a secret
A story your regret
I only had a minute
But I haven't finished yet.