april 16,2005

i have always been crazy


i should have been a fiction writer.
maybe detective novels or fabio
covered romance rags
with an insane imagination
that makes willy wonka look reasonable.
i stayed up until 4 am. thinking
"whatif"
torturous chapters
over in my brain
because i had a crummy night and i was freaked
out that a stranger had my cell phone and offered to drop it off at my house.


and my mind ran away
and the deadbolts were not enough
and so i sat and then fought to stay up late
on the faithful old floral couch
which has been friend to me on many a night like this.
this is me.
and then scenario after scenario
of my made up life where i am always
sought after and award winning and extroidinary and beautiful
and i take your breath away.
and those conversations with myself are always the best
and they get me through the day
through a lifetime and tommorrow
and i hold that hope in my seventh grade diary
with hearts and flowers and do you like me circle yes or no
(don't tell me if you circle no)
and my fairytales and silly middle school lies
and chubby girl exagerations of romance with mysterious boys
who were head over heels in love with more to love
lancaster dress company clothes
my stupid forty year old wardrobe.
and when i was discovered as a farce i would sit in silence
listen to the wolves rip apart my generous flesh and imagine
humane ways to relieve myself of the agony and
the misery of puberty and middle school and being me.
and the daydreams never ended and i grew up
no longer cared about dave bennett lies or award winning discoveries
and it gets harder to pretend.
as my face gets more drawn and the laugh lines emerge
to prove that i have indeed been happy at one time or another.
my heart hides somewhere and my head is worn out
from positive thinking.i choose poems instead because
unfortunately i can not commit to lengthy engagements.

i'll still write it in my head
and i'll probally win the pulitzer in the shower
and it will be fabulous and so will i.
one day
maybe
i will have something real and tangible
something to hold and something to shout
from the rooftops.johnny paper will have life
breathed into this manuscript of me
and i can live out happily ever after
or just happily ever one day
and the end will be beautiful
and in french-
fine.