It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

Was it the way you waved hello in the morning
that made me want to hold you?
Was it the way you held me
that made me want to kiss you?
Was it the way you kissed me
that made me want to love you?
Was it the way you loved me
that made me want to marry you?
Was it the way you married me
that made me want to have your children?
Was it the way we had children
that made me want to grow old together?
Was it the way we grew old together
that made me want to die together?
Was it the way you died before me
that made me want to go back?
Was it the way I couldn't go back
that made me want to pull the trigger?
Was it the way I didn't
that made me wish I did?
Was it the way they put me in that place
that made me want out?
Was it the way I tried to swim across the river
that killed me?
Was it the way I died
that made me so happy?
Was it the fact that I saw you, in all your shining glory,
with your long beard, and your top hat, and those shoes I got you for the 67th birthday
that made me realize it was all worth it?
All of the crying, and sorrow, and laughing, and darkness, and beauty,
was all worth it.
Because it lead me back to the way you waved at me
every morning that made me want to hold you.

Melt-away girl,
I don’t want to watch you go.
You’ve slipped between my fingers
One too many times.
I hate to watch your heart break.
I wish I could breathe life into your broken spirit
Instead of having to see you
Melt away
With the next betrayal
Each new set of bullying youths
Or scarring untruths.
It hurts me beyond hurt that
I cannot be there to stop them
When they treat you so badly.
I can do nothing but hold you,
Melt-away girl,
Trying to show you that
There is still love in the world.
I am too young, too powerless,
To do anything but adore you
Adopt you as my kin
Remind you that your world may be shattered
But you may also be somebody’s world.
Unfortunately, I am not enough to always offer escape.
I am just one.
And I must watch each time you evaporate
My sister sans blood,
My melt-away girl.

this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
with newspapers stuffed into
worn boots.
my plight is just as terrible.
maybe more so.
victory was so close
victory was there.
as she stood before my mirror
younger and more beautiful than
any woman I had ever known
combing yards and yards of red hair
as I watched her.
and when she came to bed
she was more beautiful than ever
and the love was very very good.
eleven months.
now she's gone
gone as they go.

this time has finished me.
it's a long road back
and back to where?
the guy ahead of me
falls.
I step over him.
did she get him too?

I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.

I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.

I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.

I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.

I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.

I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.

I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.

I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.

Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.

I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.

I'll *******,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.