Tuesday, April 9, 2013

After the Fools Dance



  

So, you think maybe that poem was just made up. Nope. Its truer than you can imagine. Except instead of it taking me five hours, it only took 20 minutes to realize I was beyond help. I sent my friends on and laid on the bed and cried myself to sleep. If my buddy hadn't have come over that night and comforted me, I don't know where I would be today.
Over 30 years later, I still cry when I remember how I choose to punish and fool myself and refuse to believe the pants didn't fit. Did I take a hard line, loose weight and wear the pants? No, they hung in the back of my closet in pieces - until I got married to my buddy. Almost 30 years later, I no longer keep clothes hoping I will loose weight. I buy my size and recycle.

 
The morning after

Last night I put on skinny jeans
I pulled and pulled with might
but fluff and faint overwhelmed
and I passed out through the night

I dreamt of spiders and cocoons
my thoughts were all consuming
I know I lost my consciousness
Tiz death, I was presuming.

Morning sun warmed on my face
and brought me sweet repose
but I was mostly paralyzed
and could not feel my toes

I tried to cry and say his name
or at least get up and shuffle
but like a lump, I hit the floor
my cries were but a muffle

I was swollen like a torso
heated by the sun
my grotesque arms reached in front
The unbuttoning begun

groping pulling gurgling
Tears flowed like unfettered rain
zipper down, hands rubbed raw
I passed out again

was it hours or days that passed
he is still asleep I hear
I grabbed the scissors from the drawer
in my dresser near

slash and cut, rip and tear
My pants are shredded well
Two hours of my life are gone
And those pants can go to hell.


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