Six Degrees of Steparation

I’ll have you know,

today was going to be the day.

Maybe not with heavy quotes like all those

chick flicks and other assorted life-misrepresentations

but it would have been special enough for me.

(I know my passion sometimes scares you,

but I can be surprisingly extra ordinary

in all the ways that count)

-ing the occasional hallway run-ins,

you’re definitely the one I see the most

(Sadly, this is usually at the most inopportune times,

like when I reeeeally have to pee, or on the fifth or sixth

of my eleven steps to the shower, cap- and robe-clad)

It’s funny—

you claim you’re always in your room,

but as today made it a point to prove,

you’re never around when I want you to be

there for me, holding my hand, like you’ve been thrice before.

You listen as much as I talk:

that's never happened to me before.

And I swear you’re the only man in the world

who can make Kansas

sound as interesting as Kenya.

The line of communication from you to me used to be fuzzy

I don’t remember when I started really hearing you,

but I wanna make sure you get this message

me and no one would ever suspect a thing—

you sound so silly and formal in your texts.

We have to take ourselves out of our element

to ever be truly in it. I know it sounds corny, but

what the hell? Amidst deadlines and stress,

I could use a little corny in my life, so

I’ll just say it: you can make the whole world melt away

from it all, we fall

into this mold that makes us somehow more

but never lingers longer than the tingle of my hand

after you’ve let it go. I don’t know if that means we’re

perfect for one another or

we never will be.

Tonight, though, I was willing to take the chance

-s are, I’m making too much of those little moments,

but the way I see it, there has to be something in

the fact that you’re charming

when I least expect it

and even when I don’t exactly understand why,

I can’t exactly cross you off.

Tonight, I was willing to play the fool

if it meant I could find out

my door I went: one to the right, three forward, then to the left

to the left

Six steps separate me and you

and I, or so I thought.

My customary quiet knock: no answer.

With hope, a little harder, but no

such luck—you’re not there.

(It’s time to say I told you so.) I’ll bid my dream goodbye

as I’d have done you, holding just a little too tight,

granting the lightest kiss on the cheek

-y some might call me, and I must admit,

I’m not that regular a girl, and tonight,

if you had opened that door,

I’d have flipped the script on you.

But it seems like we’re just not ready for that, so

two to the right, three forward, and one to the left

to my own devices, I remember what that ambiguous “They”

always says:

There are six degrees of separation between every person in the world.

Maybe there will never be any less

between you and me.

My Best Friend's Wedding

When all our friends and family have settled down,

and even your not-a-baby-anymore sister has turned to look at me, expectantly,

I’ll stand, smooth out the wrinkles in my just-classy-enough-to-not-be-skanky dress, and

clear my throat, preparing to ignore them all and speak directly to you.

Speak now, or forever hold your peace, right?

I’ll tell you that when I first met you, too long ago for me to remember exactly when,

I didn’t imagine there’d even be a you and I, let alone that we

would share so strong a bond we’d challenge customs, you giving me the title:

Best Woman. I’ll make some tired old joke about how that’s all over now that I’ve been bested.

Not that this was a contest—I entered this race knowing I’d never win. I just wanted to be close to you for as long as I could.

I’m sure I’ll tell them that I’ve never seen you this happy.

Inside I’ll be wondering whether or not that was a lie.

I’ll look towards my right, at the one holding your hand, and after everything, I still won’t be able to tell do I want that to be me?

What I will say is that I’ll give him away if I have to, but on one condition:

She must take better care of you than I have. Depending on how much wine/champagne/whatever-the- hell-the-waiters-have-been-carrying-around I’ve had, I’ll speak the truth:

I’ll say, and I quote, “This man right here is the love of my life. If you hurt him, sleep with one eye open—I know where you lie at night.”

She’ll think I was joking.

You’ll think back to those nights in my kitchen, where I turned against my brother to protect my mother’s “other son,” to who rode shotgun and made you get out of the car to leave your first love letter, to who made the family wait to decorate til you were off from work, so you could do the star. You’ll look at me and know I wasn’t.

You’ll look at me and I’ll feel bold enough to keep going…

I’ll conjure up memories of all those times when it was just you and me, alone but for one another, us against the world,

when Mr. Seigel asked me if any degrees of separation were allowed between us, and I told him firmly, “No.”,

every time some blissfully ignorant stranger referred to us as the “lovebirds”, “such a cute couple”,

how we laughed them off me sometimes wishing they were right.

I’ll tell them the story of the night I realized you were ridiculously in love,

rather than just plain ridiculous. How you readily admitted it.

I’ll bite my lip, wondering if now I can say that forbidden word: jealous. Or if that’s not right, then just lonely at the thought of losing you.

I’ll laugh a laugh that’s half a sigh, take another sip of my wine or whatever, and tell them that I still think you’re ridiculous. I don’t doubt it for a second. You’re crazy—and if you’re crazy about anything, it’s her.

I’ll wish that she can drive you crazy in all the best ways, the ways I never could the ways you never let me try the ways I don’t think I wouldn’t have wanted to.

I’ll turn and look at you while I say that last bit. I’ll have worn waterproof mascara on purpose, and you’ll have “something in your eye,” just like the night I left for too long.

I’ll wish you the best this world has to offer, and then some,

say I’m gaining a sister rather than losing my brother from another.

I’ll tell her Sorry to have to break it to you, honey, but we’re bigger than this, him and me. Congratulations.

Loving and Leaving

My stepdad used to find himself fucking hilarious

And one of his favorite jokes was to say,

When someone had hurt themselves in some small way,

“Well how about I stomp on your foot?

“Then you’ll forget about whatever else was hurting you.”

I never thought he was funny,

But I think the concept could be used for joys as well as pains.

And I think they lied when they said,

“Absense makes the heart grow fonder.”

For the first few days, more or less,

An absense reigns much more present than a presence,

Missing someone takes the reigns, takes over your life,

And you let yourself sink lower than low.

Til one day you get up, dust yourself off, and resolve that

“Well, at any rate, life must go on.”

And go on it does.

You seek out your nearer friends and loved ones

Who, by being nearer, instantly become dearer,

And they distract you from the hole in your heart so well

That you’d think they had filled it in.

My stepdad thought a big hurt could mask a small one,

I say that a big joy can obscure a huge pain,

And you can let yourself be happy,

Remember how it feels to laugh and smile…

This charade can last for quite a while…

For however long it takes for you to see

The face of the one who had to leave.

Until you hear their voice.

Until they appear close enough that you could reach out and touch them

And you do,

And as your arms slide around one another,

The whole weight of missing them comes rushing back to you,

Knocks you over like an ocean wave,

And you never want to let them go again.

But this fondness resulted from reunion,

Not from the separation itself.

The heart grows weary of focusing on absense,

And love, even from others,

Is a hell of a distraction from pain.

I’d been having such a great time without you

That I’d forgotten how amazing every day with you is.

I can’t believe I never realized how much I miss you,

I never realized til you were right where

All along, I’d wanted you to be:

Til you had your arms around me.

I think the only thing they were right about is that

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

But, though I miss you now, in the end,

I guess we part only to meet again.

The Love of My Life: Take Two

We ended.

It was over.

This relationship,

This strange and unexpected love,

The last seven years,

We looked back only to let go.

We ended it,

And, with it, my world,

And you remained remarkably emotionless,

As if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I guess if seven years had taught you anything,

It was never to believe me the first time around.

Because the words that came out of my mouth,

The “I’m done,

I love you, but I can’t do this anymore…”

They were no match for this hole in my heart.

I knew even then that whether “best” applied or not,

You’d always be the greatest love of my life.

A good friend of mine once told me

That while life may be called some crazy things,

It really just runs in circles,

And if we wait long enough,

We’ll end up with everything we missed.

When you showed up at my store [by chance?],

The gasp, the smile, the desire I had to throw myself at you,

Latch on and stay there for all eternity…

It told me she was right.

I’d spend some time without you

Completely without you,

Had gone through “I can’t live like this,”

“I think I can do this,”

And even gotten to the part where I didn’t miss you every day.

But I would still talk about you in daily conversation

Because everything reminded me of you

And in boredom, I reserted to you…

As I think you did to me,

For boredom brought us baby-stepping our way back to one another:

The world is full of wondrous things,

But nothing as familiar as you and me.

So now we talk a day or two a week,

Catching up with one another’s lives,

Trying to become again something like we once were…

Or maybe trying to become something new?

Trying to let it come naturally again

And maybe we’ll get back to that place where we didn’t have to try

Maybe we won’t

But I’m glad we’re in a place where we can try.

I’m still learning the boundaries,

Testing the waters of an ocean I know so well,

Going slow because I don’t want to fuck this up again

“Ex” is such an ugly prefix anyway:

Thanks for giving me the chance to have a second chance.

Some Things I Know

You’re secretly taller than you look

(Though I’ll still call you short)

You have the most beautiful eyes

I think I have ever seen

You like teaching people to do things

Be it play a video game or understand econ

You love sports so much

That I’ve begun to love them too

You don’t like the way I curse

And hate my instinct to hit first,

Ask questions last

I can’t eat a piece of meatless pizza

And you’ve never even tasted flesh

I know I wouldn’t give up my heels

Even though I’ve already changed because of you

Though I’m not sure if for you

I know we’re absolutely impossible,

Me and you,

The idea of us being together

Makes no goddamn sense

(There I go again)

I’m sure the world would laugh at me

If ever I were brave enough to voice it

I think even I might laugh at me

All this I know,

And one thing more:

In the middle of the night as I

Climb back up the stairs

I sometimes think of turning around,

Descending,

Falling for you.

For You I Will

For You I Will

You called me a bit past five yesterday
And asked if you could drop by, visit me
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” you said
I didn’t buy it, but said, “Come over.”
Baby girl, the truth I knew naught of, yet
In your eyes I saw what I could not see
A black cloud lurked shadow-like over you
Unhappiness: “I just don’t like it here.”
At first, I couldn’t see how you could say
Such things about such a wonderful place
Sensing this, you laid it all out for me
Darling, it hurts me to see you hurting
I just wanted to hold you in my arms,
Make you see—I wanted to make you me
For I am happy, or at least I was
Until you brought all of your pain to me
Don’t worry—you’re not a burden, my friend
Warrior-girl, someone must fight for you
I will do something I don’t do often
Something I hold in very high esteem
I’m going to make a promise to you
These are words you can be sure that I’ll keep:
I would give so much of me to see you
Smiling, laughing, playing for me again
I will give you parts of me, all of me
That I can spare—we will make you happy
With different arms, pursuing different means,
Together, we will find your missing piece
I’ve promised you, and my promise I’ll keep.

And One for Me?

I blame Disney,

the Grimm Brothers,

that Anderson guy,

and Mother Goose, too:

any and all of them fairy tales that taught me that

if I ain’t happy with me, all I need is

you.

I hate that every little girl wants to be a princess.

I mean, before she gets fed up wit hangin out in some tower

waitin on Prince Charming,

what the hell does a princess do?

And why ain’t none of them Princesses black?

Don’t sistas need savin too?

But only them skinny lil white girls get a real prince;

the bitches with a little color?

Jas got a streetrat,

Pocohontas’s ass got left,

that gypsy girl could only land a hunchback,

and Mulan’s whole damn country dissed her

…It’s a goddamn shame.

Sometimes I feel like this world’s been telling me

I’m gon get got from Day One.

And that that jus plain ain’t right.

See, my whole life people been tellin me,

“ You gon be somebody”.

And you know what? I think they right.

If I made it here,

I’m pretty damn sure I can make it anywhere.

I might even be able to make it up that ladder

But will I be that strong,

power-suit wearin,

high heel rockin

Black woman can’t no man love?

Am I gon spend my whole life workin,

just to work some more?

I can’t see myself spendin the rest of my life with people tryna suck the color right outta me.

Cuz us soulful sistas, ya know,

them dragons try to get us, too.

Am I gonna hafta fight them myself,

or will you?

What I’m tryna say is, will a man love me if I go for my dreams,

or is “love” as much of a joke as it seems?

See, I think back to them stories and what I see on TV,

and all them girls that get love,

that find the one they walked with “once upon a dream”,

they’re everything I’ll never be.

And the concept of “rift-raff…streetrat”?

Well, I actually WON’T buy that.

Is there ever gon be a prince for the successful sista?

Or am I always gon stand proud,

stand tall,

stand here in my kitchen by myself?

Would it really be so bad if I did?

Heh, I think it’d give my Mama a heart attack.

So I blame Mother Goose

for sending Jill tumblin down after.

Hans, cuz he said I hadta call myself Ugly

to be a swan, and I hafta be tiny

to get my man.

Brothers Grimm, my skin’s not white as snow,

and it’s rainin outside—I can’t let down my hair.

But I heard some good news the other day:

seems like Disney’s fittin to give sistas a chance.

This new chick, they got her goin through all kinds of hell,

but comin out alright in the end

(Remember, Brandy got to be Cinderella too)

So maybe this part right here is where that tired old frog story gets

twist-turnt upside down.

Maybe…if they get it right.

And if they don’t?

Then I’ma just keep doin me, tryna make it right myself

Maybe Mama’s right and I should go head an call this boy

...someday one of them’s gon open they eyes and love me.

Wanting You

Wanting You

I’m done being torn,
done “deciding”,
done daydreaming and fantasizing,
romanticizing and idolizing.
I won’t claim to be sick of love songs,
but I’m sick of chick flicks and romance movies.
I’m sick of longing for a Noah,
a Jack or even a Jerry.
Al and Eric can hit the road, too.
This castle is home to both of us,
but I don’t need a Prince Charming;
I’m a big girl—I’ll rescue myself.
I just can’t be all by myself anymore,
and I’m sick of lovely ideas and beautiful lies.
I want something real
with someone real.
I
want
you.
This sounds so trite and cliché,
but then again, so does the entire concept of falling in love,
so I guess I’ll say it:
There’s just something about you.
I can’t really describe what it is,
but there are more obvious choices that have been flat-out
denied.
Something draws me to you.
There’s a reason I can’t say your name without smiling,
why I’m quite literally always thinking about you.
There’s a reason I’m already missing you more that I was missing you already,
and I’m not missing him at all.
I’m not sure what it is,
but there’s a reason I choose you.
You’re the one that I want.
But I’m doing more than that,
because I’ve wanted you for quite some time now.
I’ve coveted and cherished…
But I’m done admiring from afar;
that's just not enough anymore:
I can’t just sit around
wishing, waiting, wanting
you to want me.
No more acting coy and flirtatious
or switching it up and playing hard-to-get.
Darling, I want you…
and I’m becoming the type of girl who,
once she decides what it is,
always gets what she wants.

Giving Thanks

Giving Thanks

It being Thanksgiving and all,
I’ve been trying to list
All the things I’m thankful for,
And it’s just making me realize
How much I [could] love you.
I’m thankful for hard work, determination,
And a hell of a lot of luck,
Because, without those, I wouldn’t be here.
And I’m thankful for this place
For so many reasons,
Not the least of which
Because it brought us together.
I’m thankful for proximity
Of housing and schedules.
I’m thankful for Facebook (-stalking),
Chatting, texting, and AIM.
I’m thankful for dining halls and common rooms,
Shared hallways and mutual pathways,
Things we have in common and things that are totally new.
I’m thankful for the time we spend together
(However depressingly brief it may be).
I’m thankful for everything you say
(Even if you don’t know how I replay it through my head).
I’m thankful for your sense of humor,
For your laugh and your beautiful smile.
I’m thankful for your love of the lyrical,
And I’m thankful for your impeccable style.
I’m thankful for your personality,
And I’m thankful that you care.
I’m thankful for the late night conversations that we share.
I’m thankful for your body,
For every occasional brush of the knee,
And for every tender second your arms are around me.
I’m thankful for what you do to me:
For the way my face lights up when I see you,
And for how I can’t say your name without a smile.
I’m thankful for the wishing times,
And for every time my dreams realize my fantasies.
What I’m trying to say is that I’m thankful for you,
Thankful that I have you in my life.
I’m thankful for even the chance of you and me
Becoming an ever-desired “we”.
I’m thankful that I [could] love you.