Monday, October 14, 2013

Who am I to think I’m so special?

“It all ends in tears anyway.”
- Jack Kerouac

We take what we can, those few moments of passion
Leaving our children at home with Legos and biscuits
And running to the mall to get his favorite sandwich
And hard drink, investing more than our hearts
Into Facebook relationships. Waiting at 4:00 a.m.
For some activity so we could say Hello, pretend
We just woke up and are bright-eyed when the truth
Is that we are loving with one hand over our hearts,
The other stroking his ear, his penis,
His ego. Like fragile porcelain dolls our eyes
Are wide and hopeful in the beginning, and even
Right before it ends. Even when we realize
We are not named: No labels, no nothing.
And yet when it all comes crashing down we just
Cry in tiny, painful trickles.

Let us love when the time is right. Oh, how we know
In our most secret hearts, how we know we deserve
So much better. In the meantime, we heal our wounds with
Love songs, belted loudly, inside lonely KTV rooms
Somewhere in this noisy, dirty city, full of double-dealing
boys. Boys, really. Only with beer bellies and salt
And pepper hair. My stomach turns.

So go ahead and chug down your Smirnoff, you beautiful,
Luminous shock of a woman. Wear your attitude like a blazing
Crown. You are very special. Light up the room
With your magnificence. You rock and you roll.
Janis Joplin cannot hold a candle to you.

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