peace poetry

this is not how i'm feeling today but i wanted to post. let me know how i think.


They just don’t know…

after the last time I sat up all night
crying
wondering if
the last time I saw you
was
really
the last time

my friends confessed that they didn’t
know what I saw in you

them my girls and all
but I don’t tell them everything

like
how I can pick you outta a crowd during rush hour because your aura shines so bright to me
and how laughing at people’s everyday foolishness is one of our many guilty pleasures
and how you make my brain click on after having to dumb down so long
or how I feel like the Original Virgin when you move my hair outta my face
or how my body blooms when you call me baby in that…voice
or how your accents make me cream
or how the warmth of your chest against my back melts that cold wall I put up some times

no
didn’t tell them any of that
they wouldn’t understand those things
those things that we do in the privacy of our togetherness

I don’t complain a lot
or even go into detail about our stuff
They just see my you-induced highs and lows
and being the good girlfriends they are
I guess they assume
that my tears are hurt tears – “he done her wrong” tears
when in fact
they’re just sad tears
tears of uncertainty
from wishing you’d come back to me

excerpt from a short story...

Nina Williams

Every block has one – a fast girl, and the one on my block was named Nina Williams. Nina was the subject of wet dreams and wagging tongues. Oh, how they talked about her! Whispered rumors blew hot and fast (no pun intended) over well-manicured lawns and hedges as soon as Nina stepped out of her house. It didn’t help matters that she preferred walking down the middle of the block, strutting on her own private runway. And the walk…grown folks stopped in their tracks, mid-whisper, to watch that walk. Even with her hair in an “onion”, a pinched ponytail – just enough hair to snatch back, and her generic dirty sneakers, Nina’s walk said that she was grown and ready for whatever.

Every time I saw her, I wondered in amazement. I mean, she wasn’t that pretty. In fact, she was kinda plain - light brown with cinnamon freckles sprinkled across her nose and onto her cheeks, average height, slim, almost flat-chested, average size butt that sat up high, and a smile that reminded me of the Grinch. Every time someone called to her when she walked by, Nina would poke out her lips at them in a silent hello. Like, “I’m too cool and too grown to offer you kids words!” What made her so cool? What did she do so bad that the adults talked about her? Where was she always going? I had no idea but I was intrigued.

am i blue?

nyc is all abuzz, what between the parade for the giants and democratic primaries. it's warm for february and overcast. and everyone's smiling for some reason or another today. except me. lately, i've been feeling...well, melancholy. just about everything is a fuzzy shade of grey for me. i'm not feeling myself. not that i feel ill. i mean, that i am not feeling myself. yesterday on the way home from work, when i looked at my reflection in the train window, i saw a sad kid. i don't feel fierce. or flyy. or sexy. i don't even feel grown, which is a feat considering all of the adult issues i'm facing.

side note: i was somewhat disappointed when i went to vote today. this was a historic moment. it should have been less anti-climatic. i mean, i didn't expect confetti and horns but was it wrong of me to expect the people working at the polls to be polite? there was no line at my polling site at the senior's center on new york ave and pacific st. but i still had to wait for these older women to finish their conversation before they directed me to the next station, at which i had to endure a second-hand scolding. this lady five to ten years older than me was being given a stern talking-to by a mature, "cultured" looking woman around my mom's age. whatever it was about could have waited until there was no-one else at the table but i got the impression that ms. lady wanted a show. needless to say, my "excuse me" was greeted by a frosty stare followed by a flung hand, indicating that i should go "over there". the two redeeming moments happened right at the actual booth - the security guard, a 30 something year old latino man, wished me luck and after i had flipped my switches and pulled the lever, the cutest old lady that i've seen in a while, clapped for me, like i was the first negro woman to vote...ever. sometimes, a lot of times, i question people's sincerity but this was not one of them. granma had pride in her eyes. and that sweeten the whole bittersweet experience.

anyway, my bf buddha has responded lovingly and supportively with hugs & kisses and reassurances that i am indeed beautiful and sexy and that i will pull myself out of this funk. i know i will. after all, i am peaches' daughter. but right now, it seems hard. my snickers hasn't satisfied me. maybe i need another hug...and a glass of riesling. or maybe i just need to watch the color purple and get my cry over and done with.

I WANT TO SEE THIS!!!

you know it's serious because i used caps! it's 4th. down, 1:54 left in the 1st. half of the superbowl and so far, for me, the best part has been the commercials, which have been ok. just ok, except the preview for wanted. wanted stars everyone's crush, angelina joile; morgan freeman!!!; james mcavoy from the last king of scotland; and dude i look for everytime get off the train at lafayette - my man and yours - common!!!! i have a whole lot to say but i'm missing the game. just let me know who's going with me on opening night.