One Flight Down

Upon the realization,
That I'd rather lay on my back
Drenched in acrylic,
Completely alone-
Listening to something acoustic,
And sipping hot tea--

Than bake
And coddle
And cater to
"My Man"-

I realized,
That,
THAT
Is why I am alone.

I stand on it
With complete certainty.

I was in no way what he was looking for.
In-fact I'm someone else entirely.

I don't think I'm what any guy
Is looking for.

In-fact,
I'm realizing that
Boring,
Wallpaper Paste,
Carbon Copy Cut Out,
Paper doll playing-
Girls
Really DO
Have the
Upper hand.

Girls that
Don't have a soul-
Or any ambition
To do anything but
Wait on a man hand and foot...

THEY
Really
ARE
The ones that have it going on.

And that is where I
Fall Short.

Because I...
Am NOTHING
Like those girls.

My kiss has too much Spice,
My walk has too much sauce.
My tongue has too much venom.

And they just don't know what
To do
When they just can't
Put a finger
On me.

They don't like my spontaneity
Or my strong will
Or my thick head.

My independence intimidates them.
Their inability to tame me
Infuriates them.

And,
My heart
Is too big for even the strongest
Man to carry.

And they know it.

They'd rather have a housewife,
With a mousy haircut,
With no depth,
And no voice
To follow them around
And match up their socks,
And pat them on the back
When they achieve something
Completely
Mediocre.

They'd rather have
A wife
A mother
A lemming...
A baker.

Who has no taste in music,
And no real understanding of
Anything
Except for how to make dinner
And follow them around.

I am no sacrificer of dreams.
I am no object of entertainment,
Complete with my own
List of things to do-

That's just around,
To straighten his tie
And bag up their lunches,
And send them off to school.

I am no white picket fence,
Labrador retriever loving,
Tide using,
Comet pouring,
Charmin buying
Type of woman.

I am a dragon slayer.
I am a fearless leader.
I am Aphrodite
And Lady Gaga,
And Madonna,
And Prince,
All combined.

I am the artist
The poet
The writer
And the painter.

I am the destroyer
And the creator
Of the chapters
Of my own life;
And with each story-

Rises in me,
A new element of my character-
Good or bad,
Right or Wrong,
Eternally or Temporarily.

I am the girl-

Whose nails,
Under which-
Acrylic resides.

And who has a tendency,
To pick up drive...
To anywhere but here;
Just to get away
From the monotony
Of home.

I don't need a man.

Especially a man,
Who desires a
Lisa Frank Loving,
Dolphin Hugging,
Horseback riding,
Disney watching,
Bootie knitting
Kind of girl...

Who are the baby makers,
And the pastry icers
And the garden trimmers
And the dish washers
Of the world...

Who after cleaning the babies,
And washing their 8th load of laundry
STILL have time,
To iron their husband's
Trousers,
And have dinner on the table by six.

I am Jade the car waxer,
And Jade the garbage collecter-

Equipt with my own leaf blower,
And wrecking ball.

And in the soft solitude of morning-
I find comfort in the verses
Of the piano,
The words of each
Incredibly
Famous or
Beautifully
Invisible,
Composer-
That longs to speak

Out
And talk to me.

And while she's
Managed
To fit in time to take the kids
To get santa pictures
And flatten little dough pieces
Into stars
In the kitchen-

I'm outside with you,
Under the open skies,
Watching how
The snowflakes look
As reflections in your eyes,

And memorizing how wonderful it
Is to feel your warm kiss
On my face
As the cold is sweeping in.

But that's not possible.

Because
She is what you'll want-
Home-maker,
And seamstress,
Coffee Maker,
And Butter Spreader-

Egg beater,
And Vitamin
Taker-

Who chases
The kids
With the grape cough syrup,
And who loses the shape of her
Body

Under
Her frilly,
Apron.

But I have to give it to her.

I guess she's doing
The hardest thing-

Slaying who she is on the inside for you.

Because
That is definitely something-
I could never do.