Trip
I am four years old and cannot stop staring at my reflection
On the side of the chrome toaster
In the bottom of my cup
Warped into curves, an oblong alien
Those dark eyes peering back at me
Like a stranger who I should know
I call my first dog Tripper
I don’t remember why now
His big floppy ears and mournful look
I used to spin him around in a shopping cart
Until they sent him away to the pound
I start school and the older kids bug their eyes out at me
I guess I am staring
This big wide world which constantly stuns me
How does everyone act normal anyway?
I narrow my eyelids like everyone else
But my knees give out and the teacher asks if I’m doing a dance
Getting used to this body,
Reigning in movement, learning the rules
Still loose limbs and softness
Bent into myself, tasting the salt of my skin
Alone, on my own, I learn how to find pleasure
The nooks and crannies, the swell and push
I use the mirror to tease myself
My body a planet, terrain to be mapped
Seasons to be followed
Budding, supple petals of a flower
And the sweet musky scent soaking in
Later on, I share myself with others
But somehow something feels lost
My first love, myself, misplaced
And so I mine my body
Natural resources exploited
Like a mountainside stripped raw
I find my way back before it’s too late
Now, eyes wide open in cool healing waters
Anointed with compassion, for all that I’ve done
I no longer feel it is a waste
To leave myself alone
To keep myself to myself
I am older and look at the young people
Boys and girls like ripe fruit
Remembering the feel of my own ribs
The lushness of so much, too much, not enough
That ever present heat of bloom
I am supposed to be jealous, to hold on
In garish pretence, but I am done
Even before the looks have left me
Yet I feel the sing of their fresh bodies
And they look at me like they know I know
My dreams become more vivid as the years pass
The mystery of life opening up to me with its secrets
And strangers I meet make me wonder
If one day we will remember together
I see a father in the park
Lifting up his little girl, two years old, in a dress
She giggles in her ruffles, spreading her legs
Doing splits in the air
I hear him tell her, “That’s good,
But next time, keep your legs closed.”
I tell myself there are reasons
And I refuse to be blind with my faith
But all the suffering wells up inside me, the endless tears
And I cannot sometimes, I don’t know how we all go on
What saves me is knowing that whenever I ask
I am answered
I am walking down the street
When I spy the old woman
Wearing tight leggings
A sparkly shirt with no bra
Bright red lipstick smeared like a clown
She is demented, I think to myself
Then I notice the four behind her
Two boys and two girls, teenagers out in the city
The biggest boy leers
“Look at you sexy. You get all dolled up for me?”
He says loud and ugly
I am angry but afraid
If he’s willing to heap scorn on a helpless old woman
Then what will he do to me?
I feel the weight of my cowardice burning in my throat
The old woman walks on, smiling in a daze
Almost as if she were being praised
Embrace the Paradox 