October 02, 2005 - 1:08 a.m.
torn down, like
now
and they leave, girls,
walking by
the one with the dreads,
she-of-dreds,
we used to call her,
and the night I almost killed us,
minivan rolling onto the highway, 180 degrees
ending in very little separation
between lips that had barely spoken before.
road signs in hand,
pockets full and hearts bursting
you say so little but every part of me
is mush.
i hardly mind the unsightly things
the past hurts and
wall flowers, dead bouquets
a tribute to five years ago
I'm moving
on and forward
and up,
as myself,
escorting my own body
towards more life
offerings on the altar
are my hands,
my hope
and not too much else
I'm packing lightly
and walking softly
shaking my hips all the way to
the next place I'll turn around
and recognize myself
the way I wished it really was
needing no mirror
but you, but my own finger tips.
