Something Else


I don’t know what I was at birth, how I was. I was there but I don’t really remember it. I wasn’t really paying attention.

I know what I am now and don’t give much of a fuck about what I was all those years ago.

*

I have grown into who I am. Tomorrow I’ll grow some more into something else. A seed given the opportunity to grow never retains its seed self for long but shucks its shell eventually for stalks, roots and leaves.

*

I don’t know what choices I was given but I have a few bucks and lots of stores to choose from.

*

I’ve been in some uncomfortable situations but I don’t know if there is a space less safe than a dress. OK. Maybe a skirt.

*

I’ve attracted the wrong kind of attention.

*

I wonder what the rose really thinks about the nightingale.

*

I like reds and purples. I don’t really like my hips but my lips are alright. I’d like to be a bit lighter like a peacock’s feather.

*

My head is up my ass sometimes. My foot in my mouth. My ear to the ground. But don’t worry, you can still get in on this. There’s more than enough body for you to do with as you are wont to do.

It’s up to you. Well, maybe not up but with a little inspiration we can work on it.

*

There’s no month to honor and commemorate what it means to have to put up with the effects of this humidity on my hair.

*

The year was 1995. Something happened. I wrote about it. I’m doing it again. I wasn’t finished. But now I don’t remember that something too well.  I’ve been through too many other things since so I’ll work on finishing something else.

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