the strangest thing happens to me when you are in a
50 mile radius of where i'm sitting.
it's almost like my tongue loses sensation and it is nailed
down to a board where signs can be hung.
and when i do speak, i stutter like skipping rocks and
broken records and lies, but
i never lie because my dad always told me to be honest.
so let me be honest with you,
and i'll let you into my mouth to take a look and see
the wasteland that holds the words like "hell"
but i was told soap would be my next meal if i ever would say it out loud.
now i can say such things because i'm not a little girl,
(i may be short with a short attention span and short patience),
but in my bones i'm taller than the empire state building
and you could always see the top like you discovered a new
love for star wars all over again.
and since i'm all grown up, i can tell you how i tangled things,
which i do a lot, because sometimes i get bored
or the timing is off,
but i hope for a comb to root up some of the knots.
and when my fifteen minutes come i will
shower you with light questions and
phrases that i want to hand out on a silver platter;
like, "i'm glad you are back in town" or
"i'm doing swell!"
and if you think this is about you, stranger,
it might be and we just haven't met but i really really really
hope this doesn't happen again.

but if it does,
please know that you provided the telescope so i could
learn how the body works and you may find that
really creepy.
it's not how it looks, i wouldn't lie to you.
so i level my eyes to peer through the belly of
a hot air balloon and the flame catches my
heart as it starts to flutter up
to the wires and fabric that delicately cradles the weight of
our bodies as if we are pink newborns,
thrown into this world with no knowledge of when things will get easy.
and i'll ask you politely to let me go, so no one will question
why i was with a stranger.