ninji

I give.

You called me fragile and self-indulgent. You have called me talented and marvelous. You have come into my space and flirted and bolted the other way. You have told me, "sensuous, baby, sensuous" then moved out of the state.

You asked me literally to be a "bookmark girl," then you, too, moved out of the state. Asked me to wait around and stuff. To sign contracts over maybes.

You told me "thanks but there's a girl online I'm meeting for the first time, so, could you leave my apartment now?"

Told me, "I don't date black girls."

I give. Truly. You can tell me when it's over. Set me down beneath the railroad tracks. (Choo choo whoo whoo that's right, I do--

I do hear the train-a-comin')

I give.

You have told me you can feel my love from a mile away. Told me..."I'm sorry. I feel like I'm molesting you."

Looked at me, quizzical. "What?"

Octagonal-shaped peg, am I. And a hexagon hole. I give.

I sang, loud and louder, to drown out the neg. I lost myself. I know I disturbed the peace. But I sang louder. The birdy bird, this is all she knows to do. This is her nature. Regardless of the day, or date, it's all chirp and little else.

You were having problems with your girlfriend. So you got drunk and got your flirt on. I'm uber-aware of that trick. Didn't buy it.

All my valves are shutting off. Water running dry. I can Wizard of Oz-it with the best--fall in love with the art and aesthetics of you, hide behind the Courier Font, make you think it doesn't ouch so much because the dynamics, they are explicated. Sent out, sweet, in triplicate, across the globe.

"Those girls I make out with--I didn't want you to be just one of 'those girls.'" That's why I ignore you.

So, then, just watch me pull a rabbit out of my sleeve, rather than ask, "what did you mean by that, just then?" Watch me hide behind this xerox-moment.

"You brushed your hand across my hand, pulled me aside and coaxed out a lil' smile. Where did he go, then?"

I know it's not about my art, or my waist size. Know it's not about my brain, or my chill-time. Not about my being tame, or presentable to your friends, or folks. Everyone that I adore can tell me up and down who's cool and cooler than me.
The ways in which I may or may not be cool-seeming.

I'm a magnet in the worst way--'cause you're a magnet, too. (Done before begun. Meteors, magic, magnets, mismatched)

I give.

It's not so easy, Next Contestant, just repeat after me. "So nice to see you. How are you, then? It's just nice to.

I know you cannot tell a survivor something is there that clearly is not. Something transpired that didn't. Something they feel isn't real. Valid. Okay.

I know that, 'cause I'm a survivor,

of sorts,

myself.

I give."
ninji03