Series of Mediocre Events: Romance

Series of mediocre events:

I'm happy because I'm done with work! Turned off the computers, music equipment, closed up the music library, swing open the doors and of course it is raining. I'm wearing a short-sleeved, v-cut, lime green shirt, high waters, and pink oxford tennis shoes (I know I'm not matching, but at least I'm not wearing white). Before I go down the stairs I hesitate, testing to see how hard the rain is falling.

It's raining really fucking hard and to make matters worse the wind is blowing, so once I move from the protection of the terrace a thousand and one water droplets are going to smack me in the face and they do.

Now I'm running home, the rain can make you do crazy things look at Spiderman and MaryJane and all those other romantic movies and scenes that involve making out (sex) and rain! I run across the grass and mud, Hulet and Jenks, and I'm on the path that leads to parking lot.

This average white guy (I mean come on I'm in Canton, NY and a black guy in the rain that's asking for too much! It's like asking for fried chicken in Dana! . . . plus as Sam has pointed out: a black guy running in the rain would be considered ghetto (he must be running from the cops) for a white guy it's innovative, romantic (he's running to his lover)) with groceries comes out of no where. He's running really fast. He runs past me and our shoulders bump.

He looks back. I look back.

He calls out, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," I say loud enough.

Womanhood

Goo-bity-goop
flowing down from

the middle.

The first time tears
mixed with blood.
On her knees
Her lips quiver
pretending to imitate
the joy
of womanhood.

Gut Feelings

If a man makes you feel. . .

All the when-when-whenevers {giggles}
Whenever you think about his face
Whenever his smile crosses your lips
Whenever his eyes become a stare
Whenever that small freckle under his chin is your sweet spot for him
Whenever the smell of his hair can be traced on your clothes
All the when-when-whenevers {giggle}

Well, I- you know, well don't you?
I-I get those butterfly flutter feelings
The fluttering, bubbling in my womb is
My bodies reaction to his everything.
I'm queasy with ill love, love poisoning
And I need to rush to get him out of my system.
I need a second, space, so I can double over and
Breathe out this fever
The green bile that's rising from my throat
Is his commitment
Slicked with his saliva
I'm quivering with sweat because I-I . . .
I need to shit,
He gives me diarrhea

All the when-when-whenevers have come together and I need a toilet.

. . .Tell him, "You make my stools loose."

To Shy-Momo

Shy-Momo I think you are very annoying.

You're not like Semi at all. . .

You're so damn needy, too damn needy, but I understand.

I found you in a green fishnet bag with your brother or sister

And in a cage with white rabbits that were larger than you.

It took you a while to start liking me, but I understand.

You were up at 5 AM, decided to claw at my skin, then you licked me with your rough tongue,

and then you meowed so damn much,

so I gave you milk and moistened cat food.

You're so annoying. . . I also think I am allergic to you, since

I woke up with red puffy crying eyes

I don't like you

But in many ways I love you.

Shy-Momo I hope you stop hiding under the bed and furniture soon.

Don't piss on my clothes !

Don't shed !

I want to hide you in my dresser. . . but

I understand it takes time for kittens like us to adapt to our surroundings and eat a full meal. . .

And stop hiding under beds

And not claw when touched,

So I understand why I need to spoon feed you and give you time and space.

But you're so very annoying

I don't like you very much

But in many ways I love you.

But I'm going to shave off your fur.

Open ended promise

dear dearest. . .

I'm well now, but

not as, as can be

touchable and in touch

I promise to stay in reach.

series of emotional movements (dedicated to 21)

series of emotional movements (dedicated to age 21 also dedicated to the bracketed we, not the plural form of I)

“I wish I didn’t date so many pushy women? Next time. . .”

-

“When you come back from Korea maybe we can. . .”

-

“. . .”

-

Yes, I told him, but I was thinking, 'No.'

-

No, I told him, but I was thinking, 'Yes.'

-

Yes, I told her, but I was thinking, 'No.'

-

No, I told her, but I was thinking, 'Yes.'

-

"Please let's be. . .” I begin.

-

Please let's be, I want.

-

“Fluid?” I asked

-

He didn't understand what I meant by. . .

-

She didn't understand what I meant by. . .

-

I meant an ever-changing . . .

“. . . You can do better than him. . .”

She can hear her friend’s words, but she doesn’t believe her.

“What’s good with her? She’s all right looking, but you can do better than her. . .”

He can hear his friend’s words, but he doesn’t believe him.

-

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

We can hear our friend’s words, but we don’t believe in ourselves, that is what wrong with us.

-

He wants to point a finger at all his friends. She wants to point a finger at all her friends; somehow their friends’ perspectives have lead to this:

Heartache

Temporary Heart Ache

Hurt Feelings

Temporary Hurt Feelings

Feelings of Loss

Temporary Feelings of Loss

Absence of Heat

Temporary Absence of Heat

---

Actually, it often happens in a quiet area, where the pavement stretches to no place important. It is in these places we become decisive and everything about everything is wrong.

-

I called person number seven on the telephone after I wished, in a text message, the connection we were creating never existed and all the promises he was touching thumbs to were sugared.

-

Just before the twelve text messages I called person number eight and asked if he would be willing to meet me in a café somewhere downtown in the center of New York City.

-

Just before confronting person number eight, I called then texted person number nine,

‘Hello.’

‘What happened?’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘How’s your grandfather? Arts and crafts session?’

But after the summer I was given the silent treatment.

-

I just wanted an honest answer. They all wanted an answer. . .

-

Do I belong in your life? Or am I a piece wedged in?

-

I'm sure I don't because I am too complex. . .

-

“Well it’s because. . .” He twiddles his thumbs then grabs the cup of coffee that is in front of him.

-

I never asked to be treated or seen as a princess. . .

I never asked for candied nothings. . .

I never asked to be trusted, but . . .

-

I wanted to slip into these fantasies.

-

I often leave without a real explanation. I don't want to hear the truth.

-

“Because. . . I just want you. . .”

-

While I was on the phone I recited to myself that I didn’t want person number seven; however I still asked if he wanted to be friends. He said, “Yes.” I asked him if he was sure.

-

But why?

-

“. . .”

-

“I like you for who you are. . . I mean. . .”

-

“Sweetheart. . .”

-

“. . .”

-

“I. . . I,” he released a sigh, “I’m sorry I ruined the mood.”

-

‘Keep aimlessly smiling, tell everyone what they want to hear, so that you’ll never lose these sources of comfort.’

-

“. . .Stay. . .”

-

". . ."

-

“I could treat you like a princess. . .”

-

". . ."

-

“I. . . I-I’m sorry. . . I’m confused."

-

We all were.

---

My final message to and conversation with person seven and person eight, since both of them seemed to be wishing me wellness was: 'A chicken can't fly because it never stepped off the branch nor can a fish breath air because it wasn't born on land. Wishing is for water and air breathers.'

-

In a round about way I meant don't make promises that are well over your limits; you see I just wished them well, it sort of ended there.

-

Perhaps I was just being stupid.

4 to 5

The radio is on fire, but he doesn't need no water just Sean Paul and the elixirs of 21 it will undoubtedly give her stains in her underwear, but this night will just burn away leaving ashes, a trail of mice droppings, as evidence for this arbitrary moment of sweat and two bodies.

The lights are on and off like video game seisures, they all have something to hide; she and he are ugly during the day. In the darkest corner they coincide in the rhythm of lust, it doesn't need to lead to a bed, just a reminder of who they can be in the light.