thursday words

i am still a little girl in ways.
i still am tender.  soft.  sensitive.
and stubborn.
protective of my shell. arms wrapped around me, eyes lowered, looking for reassurance but guarded.
i’m a little of everything.  turn me in the light and you will see me sparkle.
i am a star but clouds block my reach.  i am the wind that caresses the back of your neck on a hot day, but you won’t feel me.
i woke up dizzy this morning.
sorrow for a future i don’t want to discover
six hundred bucks and you can learn your future, they say.
six hundred bucks and we can tell you if you are closer to death than most women.
if your body has disarmed you.
for a girl who is so curious, today i would rather keep my head in the clouds.
for a girl who can be so intense, today i can be so hidden and inert.
it happened to all of them.
all the women.
strong, weak, healthy, sick, fat, skinny, republican, democrat.
they all got sick.
six hundred bucks and i can find out if there is something destroying me from the inside.
six hundred bucks and i can find out if they want to poison me to poison it.
six hundred bucks and i can find out if the pink ribbon ladies will plaster me with their silly hopes.
i’m not racing for cures.
i’m not wearing your ribbons.
i’m not doing anything you want me to do.
i don’t want to know my future.
for six hundred bucks you can guess and you can predict and you can diagnose.
but for nothing i can breathe.
for nothing i can wander seashores.
and for nothing i can see shattered glass.
part of me wants to burn it all down, sit on a hilltop, ask for leniency.

all i want are some pretty boots.  someone to kiss my forehead then kiss my lips.  a quiet place and a quiet life and a little cavern in a little town where i can make chocolates and be okay.

i don’t want to pay six hundred bucks and spend my days waiting for the sky to fall.

i want old ratty boots that let me walk through the mucky muck.  i want to sit on the edge of the bed and pull up the stretchy sexy black boots and walk like i rule the world.  i want the brown antique lace-up boots that make me read books and drink coffee in corners.  i want my old docs and my long thigh highs and everything in between.

that’s all.

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  One thought on “thursday words

  1. August 14, 2010 at 8:34 am

    Those boots WERE made for walking?!

    Like

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