near three years, nearer to eclipses,
since last scribed here, been there
been loved, mistreated, done my share
of giving beatings, for the deserving,
never been any body’s biatch, no starting
now=ever.

men look at me, their eyes self-seducing,
a crook(ed) finger never summoned me
or any self respecting woman of valor,
with a full fist of words, a tongue sharper
than a deli slicer, if looks can ****, then
left my fair share of men on the Riviera,
the Hamptons, the Gold Coast, uptown
and way downtown where the cool kids
pretend play @ being prey hunting grownups.

ya, hear your thinking and it’s stinking,
my generated magno-electric vibes that’s
to blame, get this kids! never your fault
being whom you the actual F are, it’s their filters
that ***** their vision, their desires unbidden,
casual dispensed, thinking glory is theirs to share.

my road is not broken, there are signs even I spot,
when the man I crave is nearby, whose calm is not
couched cool, who doesn’t wear his possessions on
his sleeve, one who says adventure, yes, let’s go,
never saying when, for the only when is what both crave,
the loving of immediacy of “right now,” and add
to that pithy, my name, Brandy, acknowledging it’s
me, just me, he addresses and not some vision that
was crafted by others into an ideal,  and ‘because’ is
not sufficient but the perfect rationale, to trust what
your absent father called your “finely tuned instincts for
human finery, humans who eclipse ordinary stars”