What I Wanted to Wear for Halloween

…is not what you wanted me to wear for Halloween.
I wanted to be one of those girls in the comic books,
spinning around in high-heeled boots, high-strung ponytails, and miniskirts.
You convinced me to be Mulan.
It was the 90’s, after all.
And she was pretty cool. I guess.
I loved it more when I realized she had a sword. I planned to cut my hair with it.
But when I asked for her sword, you handed me a fan, told me to have fun with my friends.
My best friend wore a real kimono that year – all thick and purple and bright –
her father brought it back from Japan.
We were both Mulan. I guess.
But she loved her fan and silk and uppy hair up-do.
Mine had already taken a tumble for the worse.
And that is exactly what I see, many years later, as I stare in the mirror – finally in my boots.
I keep them on when I sit at the keyboard and type in her name
M-U-L-A-N
The truth comes after H-U-A
After twelve years of fighting, and dying, and winning, and fighting by her side,
China didn’t even know she was a woman.
They couldn’t have cared less at all.

Again the sky
Takes good-byes,
And I heave one
Once again.

Good-bye.

When you quipped
Ciao so flippantly,
Or rolled au revoir
So knowingly;
When See ya
Really meant
See ya soon,
I heard it all
So promisingly.
When you said
Later, it meant
Sooner than later,
And you drawled it out
So wistfully,
Knowing sooner
Lovingly.

This time
Come back
And say
Good-bye again.

Good-bye,
My girl,
For now.

It's not
like the movies, or shows
the books and the novels.
hollywood's way of
cheesy gimmicks.
It's not
like the Hunger Games!
Where people are injected
with sweet venom of
credulous lies.
Where 2 tributes disappears.
Every year.
Because,
right now, right here,
we have more.

It is 2053.
Promises long gone.
Contracts expired and
conspiracy failed.
Betrayed.
Lied to.
Indoctrinated.
Abandoned.
Hands over heads.
We, at the mercy of
the Red Dragon.
His highness roams.
We, losing our grasps,
collapsing.

I dreamed a home of peace,
safe, with freedom.
But it crumpled into
a million pieces.
No more teases.
When they had won.

Some people fled.
Unbearable of
the roads, tainted red.
They got lucky.
But I'm just a fuming middle aged
worthless powerless whatshername.
Talk about pity.

"I'm young!"
But you'll grow old.
And I tell you of this.
I warn you of this!
Because I see it
so clearly,
so vividly,
in your eyes.
I see no future of us.
Just our minds twisted.
Blood and gore mixed
with all that we witnessed.
Just healthy looking robots.
Patriotic robots.
Who has forgotten
everything.

Whose china collided
Waiting for choices
A chance
To get rid of the broken body
And never out of a permanent dream.

Last of a beloved set
of bone China plates
just developed a lesion.

You're too loud for
your porcelain throat;
your rose blushed
china doll cheeks
crack each time you smile
     -- just a little
That silk-smooth black
hair does nothing
to keep you warm in winter
but frames your face
in perpetually delicate contrast

Your words are hammers
Actions are sparks
as much a threat to yourself.

I'm not afraid of you, only
of when you come to life
and your expression never changes.

I shot up in 70's/ 80's England
For sale, there really was only one dream
It was sold to us through Thatcher
Star wars, Magnum P.I. and The A.team.

Now that dream is old and dusty
And the world looks for something new
Will it come from India, China, Brazil
Or will it come from the shaky E.U.

Or will, as I hope, there be choice
For my daughter and her 4 year old clique
Will she choose the American dream
Or will she dismiss it as a kitsch antique.