i flew through the clouds
to turn onto your street
then i find this nudity
from a stranger grotesque
mirrors on the floor, quaint
best not look down
straight ahead was more than enough
why do we always look less intelligent
from a reflection bouncing up?
what i will ask you is your middle name?
adding why do you have no hair?
friends would be cheap, whilst we were lovers
i had to shift the focus, and fast
there was no telling what his lips would spit next
surely to be laced with profanity and innuendos
i however did not know these men well enough to be vulgar
why did i keep getting drawn to this flavor?
so no more lip action, period.
i just had to shut up all together.
though not before my big stage 'sigh'
my intentions as obvious as my transparent cream silk blouse.
i have permanently boycotted any and all activities that does not
come with a hair dryer and might possibly involve spiders
it was then, my brain chemistry kicked into overdrive
deciding to begin a new love affair with life
suppose you would have to know me to understand
how bizarre this piece is going for me
i am certainly not an outdoorsy kind of girl.
hailing taxicabs counts as strenuous exercise
clearly, i call for one on my phone, or someone calls for me
as i waited, i avoided all other men
all, yes all potential mirrors
the time was now or never, i had to know
in the cab i asked 'driver, do i look like a psychopath to you?'
what spoke was permanent silence that remained
suppose the question alone spoke volumes to my answer
but i need a concrete sign, even physical
even if just for him to lift his hand, or nod his head
it was then intrigue triggered horror when, regardless
i began spontaneous feelings of joy
not my style or within my making
ah, there, then the stab of pain
causing verses of poetry spreading a virus of my morbidity
my original insects i did scream at
my once 14 year old hand reached for a pen
to record all of me
as it would become a long habit
no taxicab headlights as i left
could announce my arrival
gliding from its grasp and now having one hand
that with one lost glove
my high heels waggling on gravel
only as i aimed my finger at the moon
recalling i had an earring once just like that
wishing this one i could wear too.