West Cliff

[this one is for the voice]

Blue eyes, smile like mine and
I'm having a hard time
with words that rhyme
but I bet you'd never guess so many are my type
Long hair, guitar, a bike
I don't gotta be a dyke yet
there are still so many
fish in the Pacific,
swallows in the field they
all fly up when I walk by in my heels from
Manhattan, the black is scraped off from the city streets
I feel fine in Times Square the motherfuckin' place to be
knowin' millions would kill to feel this summertime heat
you don't like the rain well 5 bucks got it beat
say hello to the masses find someone to greet,
hey hey look at me looking fine at 5 feet.
So don't get superior with your 2 inch head start,
at least I show my heart without playing a part,
at least I can pretend I don't still have dreams
obscene with their optimistic sunny hopes & scenes
fucking up but with luck like in a romantic comedy,
when in reality I pray for his eyes to register me.
'Cause when he plays I die and am reborn a different me,
minus some self-confidence plus a desperate ability
to stand at the stop signs and pretend the cars are stopped for me,
to smile with my teeth closed and to pretend it shows sincerity.
But fabrications of strangers and friends-turned-strangers aren't reality,
inadequacies,
a million stories I won't know.
And when I want to point and look who do I have but you to show?

thoughts approaching valentine's day.

In the tenth grade I had so much energy.

I had so much energy for trying for relationships.

I felt like I was in love.

I felt unconditionally.

I tried so hard.

I would call him a lot.

I would try and hug him a lot.

I would make a huge effort to talk to him at school.

It's hard for me to believe now the amount of energy I had for things like that less than a year ago.

Nowadays if I am interested in somebody I will be cautious.

Maybe I will flirt with him.

But I will not call him on the phone a lot.

I will not try and get his attention all the time.

Maybe it is because I am not hugely interested in anybody at the moment.

Maybe it is because it didn't quite work the first time.

I am a little bit interested in a few people.

But not very interested in one in particular.

I have not had dreams about boys I know in a while.

There is no boy's number on my phone that I linger over.

I no longer have the rash self confidence to talk to somebody who isn't part of my group and think maybe he will give me a chance.

I'm starting to take the passive side.

I admire my self from last year.

In a way.

But I feel content about my current approach too.

It would take a lot for me to go through that again.

(Whether you are in love or not you should check out this poem: http://youtube.com/watch?v=c5WgmbMW7Ek&feature=related.

It is adorable.)

Poem for Clara

In Paris we
screamed to see her, 17
49 and a hot bright
summer, we thought she
was a u
ni
corn the marvel with one horn
armored like a beast of the
...(k)night... they fed her
bread and hay and
examined her
nostrils with an air of
ex...cavation, the whole of
Europe entranced with this
blind tame creature
from someplace new and
exotic though she did
not smell of curry spices,
the one proof of a world bigger
than ours, worth saving
weeks of payment to see with out
own blind eyes.