I am Brandy Channing. Am I for real?

brandychanning Poems

sitting in LA traffic, feeling very traff,^ unsurprisingly,, dream-haze to SF, now, every doorway is an entrance/exit to the Matrix the movie is all about concentric circles of reality intersecting, when I emerge in Chinatown, me and naturally, Neo too, (older and cute, and edible, like my fav flav) who finds me equally irresistible, He asks am I real, sore disappointed, for earlier, making love, there were no harpsichords, just The Zombie’s breathy vocals, singing prophetic these songs “She’s Not There” and “Tell Her No.” my then reality was in no doubt, but nearness breeds suspicion as much as trust, and Neo is a worrier, I foresee not much future for him & me other men have called me Shylock, for the betrayal probability is nearer to 1, and these words, a reality test, a forewarning to all in my bed sojourn, are framed, resting above my pillows: “*If you ***** us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?*” tear stains, some from loneliness, others from being held to tight, some from my own scripts reread, some from you, you don’t even know when they stay over, I give them one of two matching robes, both Barbie pink, those that laugh and grab it on, they’re the keepers, they are for real, just like me by the way, so many of you have drunk my crazy words, it’s inexcusable that I’ve not thanked you yet, individually like the Queen Mother teaches, repeat reminds, preenly informs, nothing better than a hand written thank you note, so considered yourself served and appreciated! am I for real? the very question I ask myself daily, to my morn mirror who magic replies, more than real, crazy unique special, so so different, otherwise I wouldn’t stick around, and I thank the mirror with a lipstick kiss, and it blushes from the love so real, and cracks a smile and says you be careful my genteel, lady princess, your pale skin is exposed and the California sun is a burning torch and it touches your perfect body like all the others, whose fingerprints evaporate in time, so husband your love, give it slow and precious, for you are more than mere real, after all, you are Brandychanning