Your snowmobile being stolen is not like Rape

your snowmobile being stolen is not like rape

the smell of a stranger wearing that thief's deodorant will not make you crumble to the floor in a crowded room
a hot mess of tears and shakes and dry heaves

the sight of snowmobiles being stolen depicted in movies & television
won't ever make you fast forward

the loss of your snowmobile won't make you look into the heavens

to scream, "This god? This? After years of lectures of why I should save my snowmobile for marriage?  This is how you take my fucking snowmobile?"

it will never

make you doubt your safety ever time you are near a male friend/boyfriend/husband

it will never

cause you flashbacks in your lovers arms

it will never

send you to therapy as you struggle to mend your insides

someone stealing your snowmobile
will never EVER

haunt you

so please, don't stand in front of a classroom of teenagers and compare your snowmobile being stolen to being raped.

the ordinary girl

would you love her if she wasn't extraordinary?
would your eyes adore her if she were just
ordinary
would she bore you
would you reach for her if she was 90% less sparkles
what if she were grey
what if she just gets up every day
and does what needs to be done
what if that's all she is
or ever will be

inspired by a Siren

Saran wrap, the embroidered silk wrapped around Thistle like saran wrap.  Each step she took reminded her of the snug design.  She loved it.  Like firm hands holder her hips.  It accentuated all her best features and tucked away the not so best ones.  As she swaggered between bustling tables she couldn't help but step to the absorbing beat.  She stopped to let her eyes sweep the scene before her, "All this chaos," a smile captured her lips, "all mine".



the ceiling fan tumbled like a pinwheel throwing shadows across her face making it mimic the motions of those old movies.  If this was the, she would have been a siren.  Perfect for silent films, letting her eyebrows do the talking.

Demons

sullen girl
sulking
she built a cage
by hand
so strong
held every demon
every ounce
till a blind girl stumbled
fumbled
upon the lock
the key
those hands
escape
now the demons dance
and make me
lust
locked
it was all taken care of
i thought
i would give anything
ANYTHING
to not think these thoughts
to not feel
to be normal
but the tears
they don't cleanse
even they can't wash away this sin
i was fine
till the taste
was in my mouth
the hands
the hands
the hands
the key
the demons

March 28, 2001

matches

hand me a flashlight
I go through these matches too fast
the fire tears through them
leaving my fingers broken and bloody
I stumble in blackness
nursing my wounds
groping
only finding flimsy matches
a hot moment and gone
I am running out of fingers to hold them
found a flashlight
steady and pure
it illuminates nicely
but my body grows cold
my fingers throb with burnt memories
give me a fire
where I can warm my body
and not be scared of the creatures
that sniff at my tracks
but I can't sit still
I don't know where that path leads
and this is not an oasis
it is a detour
how about a lantern
to light my way
through the forest
bright and hot
perfect to hold while wandering
to who knows where
but you can't tell in this darkness
you can't see what gives off that light
that pierces the night
till it is in your hand
burned and bloody
a lantern in my future
matches tonight
I am running out of fingers to hold them

June 6, 2000

today

tonight was the best
i might be alone
but being lonely is a choice
and I chose different
tonight

I was sitting, watching,
sipping on the best tea
in that moment it was the best

before me were four lamps
only one shining
I worked on my heart
I worked on my home
work
and my heart
and that light became one
burning bigger and brighter
warmer and lighter
till I blinked
and the second light
caught fire like the first
illuminating the night
the universe showing me
we can work together
and I can love every moment
and never be lonely again
and even as my days unfold much different then I ever expected
I can drop those expecatations
drop the shoulds
or the why nots
and just enjoy the moment
for what it is
and what I am
and what you are
and not need to ever change a thing outside of me
i can't make you love me
i can't make you talk to me
i can't make you notice me
and I don't need to ever beat myself up again for not having the kind of magic that turns your heart
but that doesn't mean it's not magic
I'm magic
no matter who sees it
or who doesn't see it
it just is
i'm the only one who can take it away
and I'm done taking it away from myself
and I'm done giving you the power to make me feel
anything less
than
magical

she likes swing sets too - July 25, 2001

something's turning in my heart. nate just left. i can feel his fingertips tugging, trying to pull love out of friendship. i can feel him breaking. i want to brace him. i want to cast his nightmares away. there's a lightning storm. it's so strange without the rain. i wish i could tell him. i see it.  the miracle. the gold. the passion. it seems like their are so many instances. moments that are almost perfect. almost. nate and i are almost perfect. almost. i see in him so much and it's for someone else. for i am poison. i already turned one good man bad. i'd be cheating him. i know he deserves a lover, not a friend, and that's more then i could give. he just doesn't know it yet. till then i can try to protect him. and maybe he's poison for me somehow too, he smells like poison.  he's my friend and somehow his smell makes me want to nauseous to the very pit of my stomach.

then there are those rare precious beautiful moments. they stand still in my memory. they make my chest swell like the quake of thunder. suddenly aware of my heart beat and every intake of breath. perfect. my first jewel concert. the future was so certain. i could follow my dreams    and they would feed me. i watched every fear fly away with the  turning of the strobe on a glass ball. it was certain. it was a promise.

in 8th grade slow dancing in a dusty gym. he was such a dick to me. i was so weird, so ugly. but in the darkness when no one was looking. he loved me. he held me close and silently swore at a distorted social order. he pulled my lips to his ear and begged me  to keep singing. and i was perfect. i knew every lyric and every  note. i sang just so. my hot breath on his ear. we spun in a monotonous circle to the slow rhythm of desperado and he loved me.

She, there, in my sister's house hugged up to the corner of the threshold. watching my world. even in a maze of tickling and wrestling i couldn't hide my eyes. my adoration. sitting in a new day, sitting atop me eyes bright with memories. sharing her love, her dreams. so radiant. the way she lifts her head to greet my kiss.even my mom could see how much i adore her.  My mom won't let herself understand. But i could see her search. how she watches my hands. i'm not scared anymore. i was afraid i'd put her away, like angie, make her a pleasure's paradise. i watch my hands. they will never hurt her like that. i know now. what i've touched, where i've trespassed. i understand the gift. she likes swing sets too. that look. that frightens and excites all at once. a glimpse into knowing her power. till she pulls it back. till she cloaks it, again. i can't believe she wants to see this. she likes being dragged down to my world. knowing i'd never ask her to decide. to choose. 'cause it wouldn't be me. i am working my way under her skin. she is moving into my dreams. as if. as if i could convince her. as if i could keep her. it's the hope creeping in. the underdog has too many disney movies, fuel for the forlorn.

somehow i will be drunk, alone, in new york.  the rain will make me cry and i will open my face to the sky. rain drops on my lips and fingertips. and my body will ache with the memory of once knowing love.

she likes swing sets too.