It's early morning
but the bees
are already thrumming Rimsky-Korsakov
He had asked me if I could run
were I chased...
and I looked at the bolts of his joints
similar to my own
father-daughter scars, genetic weakness.
I bend a leg which creaks in protest
I am standing in the moment of flash flood
where the gully is worn smooth and the road depressed
and the bees
THE BEES have picked up tempo
like the quickening of desire
I see them coming like the waters
As promised, I am posting some things about myself. For those uninterested parties, you've a free pass to move on.
1. I don't like bees (ya think?). I'm deathly afraid of 'em because it's a big deal. It hurts...okay, not like child birth or kidney stones, or Carl the workout Nazi...but still! I swell up and itch for weeks. YES weeks. I'm not just being dramatic. Same with those damn mosquitos. They LOVE me, the blood thirsty bastards!
2. I'm persnickety. It all stems from control issues, of which I have a full deck. But I try to reign it in. And I can laugh at it now. I can point at myself like the world's biggest ball of string. "Get a load of this!"
3. Pessimistic is too weak a word. I'd go Goth if I wasn't so damn old. I've a very negative side. A very dark side. I fight those too. But when I told my boss I was going on anti-depressents, he said, "Oh man...I liked you angry!", so I keep a
4. Weight gain is my super power, so I'm always on a diet and definitely have the workout bug. Eat little. Move much. But then there's pizza...my first crush. We have dates every now and again...me and my hubba hubba veggie combo!
5. I'm not a prissy chick. I don't like pink, or lace, or ruffles, and I definitely don't want a girl bike. I like guy stuff. But I have a little girlie head and a small face. I practically have to buy my sunglasses in the kids department.
6. Independent. Yep! And dissociation is my go-to defense mechanism. I guess maybe you might say a bit anti-social. Of course, if by some quirk of nature I have gotten to know you, then you can't shut me up, or shut me out, or not invite me to your parties. My co-worker is a little blonde bit of a thing (two reasons to shun her, which I did at first...but I was up front about it), and she told me the other day that I was the funniest person she knows. "Really?" I said..."then it's a good thing I decided to like you Kate!"
7. Which brings me to the very unpolitically correct fact that I am horribly prejudiced against blonde's and skinny people. It's just....well...it's a visceral thing. I try ignore it, I really do. But, nah....I haven't really gotten the hang of it. You can call it jealousy if you want, which is
8. I have two dads, two moms, two half brothers, one half sister, two non-biological brothers and I've lost count of how many nieces and nephews. My niece Stephanie (no biological relation) looks more like my child than my own! Weird. But being adopted gives me an affinity for these look-alike connections. My son Jordan used to say, "I have the same color-a eyes as my mom, but the shape-a eyes as my dad." It wasn't true. His eyes are hazel. Mine are brown. But they are big and round like his dad's.
9. I get really mad if you tell me I can't do something. I'll kill myself proving you wrong. I get really mad if you try to help me when I don't need it or didn't ask for it. I get mad when something on my body falls apart. I get mad when they run out of Peet's Decaf at the store. I get mad a lot. But I'm Italian. It's what we do....and I'm only now learning to show it, which helps with the ulcers.
10. I hate silly stuff....like cartoons, Austin Powers, spoof movies. I rarely laugh out loud when watching movies, TV, or reading books. (I do laugh watching Modern Family. That show cracks me the hell up.) I laugh the hardest at myself. When I type LOL, or LMAO, I'm usually lying. And, as luck would have it...rare as it is...my laugh is one of the few things I really like about myself. I think it's beautiful.
|Gwen (Stephanie's Mom), Stephanie, Me wearing the wings Marion made me :)|