Tag Archives: Shopping

F’d Up and Beautiful

I squinted into the sunlight and the white hot glare illuminated a smidgeon of filth in the upper left corner of my left lens. Without thinking, I removed my glasses before crossing the street to polish them when the sound of a truck horn startled me and I dropped them into the street. Bad move. In a panic, and bordering legal blindness, I reached out with both hands in front and took a step forward. The devastating crunch beneath my feet sealed my fate for the day. Stepping backwards in a blur that frenzied me in my world without sight, I bent down to pick up the remnants of the sleek titanium frames and minimal glass that gave the gift of vision. Before placing the salvaged seeing tool back on the bridge of my nose, I caught a beautiful image with its beauty ironically enhanced ever more by my lack of sight: a torrent of red silk fleeing across in front of me, fabric flapping in the wind and what sounded like delicate stiletto heels slamming into pavement. I barely made out the image of a female, distinguishable only by her frail, outlined curves, crowned by a massive wave of billowing blond hair. Unusual and out of place, her presence was not only confusing but highly intriguing as her escape was captioned by a muffled, helpless sob pre-empting some sense of danger and distress in hot pursuit of her red silk and stilettos.

The suspense was thrilling in my blindness and as I whipped my head around to follow the blond hair trailing her body I was gripped with excitement – without sight, my imagination heightened and I strained my eyes to construct what I could not, in reality, actually see: a grisly day time crime scene unfolding; a dystopian fairytale; a story book character who tore herself out of a commuter’s contemporary novel to chase down her love who may have been written to death to soon. Awed completely by the out-of-ordinary and my unseeing eyes, I looked around and wondered in amazement if no one else had been caught in this dizzying denouement of some stranger’s story. Fiction or non-fiction, we’ll never know.

I realized at once, breathing heavily and gaping after the path blazed by my alleged heroine/refugee, I was still on the same street corner holding my ruined glasses, in my painstakingly ordinary pencil skirt and button down, with nowhere to flee but my 15th floor office, no more a damsel in distress than the next corporate climbing, status seeking urbanite. As I made out twinkling green traffic lights ahead, I put my glasses back on and as though the science of optometry hadn’t delivered me beyond and back today, I watched the world pass by through cracked lenses, my new kaleidoscope face-gear, and silently marveled at it all. So fucked up and beautiful as it was, on a scorching, humid day in the city.


No Less

But not soulless
I love you
No less

As time breeds infection
Things are much, much worse
Before they heal, they rest

Father brother lover
Is this what we breed?
We bred alive and kicking,
This half breathing
demented mess

And one aimed to salvage,
Ripping, clawing at hair and skin
To keep beating
What the rib cage held
Was bleeding

While the other maimed and tortured

My skin, all of me
I was the one-
I Should have been bleeding

Your hands those very
Large hands
Held so much more
Than my world, whole and widening
When you tried to wipe them clean

There, stained, then everywhere
You couldn’t wipe them clean
You beggar, you stealer
You smiling story-teller

My head in a lap (yours?), I lay,
Then sit beside myself

And look up at you to realize
You’ve been three time-zones away

So, now,
How quickly we stay the same

Windex On My Mirror

Remember when you told me
I wasn’t tall enough
for you?
I wore heels the next day
but, I like my height.
It’s easier to feel protected this way
Though, I never felt protected
by you.

Remember when you told me
I wasn’t thin enough
for you?
I tried to lose weight
but, I like my curves.
There’s more of me to admire
Though, I never felt admired
by you.

I’ll take back now
my parasitic affections
and remove the leeches
of my emotions
off of you,
one by one,
until you are bare
of me.

You’re free to go now.
And when you leave I won’t follow.
If you stay I won’t want you.
This is because I care
about you
but now I care
about me too.

Leaving Me

I miss you most
When you’re sleeping
Next to me
When you’ve furrowed away safely
Under your beloved blankets and
Faithful pillows

There, I lose you to your secret world
Where your incoherent grunts
Slight nods and tossing
Respond to whatever your dreams may carry

I am envious of where you go
And how you find that kind of peace
I am envious because I can never
Find that kind of peace

I want so badly to inch
A little closer
To remind myself we are together
On different halves of this same bed

But I wouldn’t dare
For fear that I might brush away
The serenity you feel you so deserve

And there is a dull insistent ache
When I wonder what security
The comforters bring you
Which my side of the bed cannot

Rules Every Perfect Ballerina Must Follow

1. Never enter a classroom without pink tights, body suit and skirt. Elegance.

2. Always have your hair pulled back and tight. Confidence.

3. Always stand with chin up, shoulders back, stomach sucked in and butt tucked under. Beauty.

4. You must warm up and stretch at the barre before adagio. Fragility.

5. You must have your feet pointed, chin following shoulder and hips turned out at all times. Gag.

6. NEVER stand in parallel position. Vomit.

7. Always find your center and hold it. Use your plier and elongate. Tear.

8. Never eat fast food and certainly do not eat ANY food past nine. Gargle.

9. At least six pounds must be shed before the final fitting of a tutu. Smile.

10. Never under any circumstance seem like you do not love what you are doing. Repeat.

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