Pink

I always believed that when I found it, 
It’d be pink. 

Like the lining of my stomach and the color of a baby’s cheeks
Feminine and gentle, unassuming and soft

 I dreamed of pink like it was consuming me,

swallowing me up like oceans and swaddling me like a mother
Lightly retreating from me only to return in subtle waves of devotional worship

 

I dreamed of pink and cast a spell to live in pink 
Like it was real. 

 

You call me crying, 3 in the morning but you know I’ll answer
Tears of pink, explosions of pink, poems of pink
You cast me into it, whispering the beauty of it
Us crying in the color we dream of. 

 

My eyelashes are wet with something, cascading down the mountains of my face,
Complicating my peaks. 
My skin is cold from your pink, your overflowing, consuming, overpowering pink

And you whisper it like a spell, like the ones I yelled when I was little praying for pink,

ten fingers and ten toes of pink like you wouldn’t believe, you tell me.

I dreamed of pink and cast a spell to live in pink.
To chase it over mountains and down into valleys of desire
Set fields ablaze in search of pink,

Cry to the heavens for it. For pink,
I would lie before you bare, outstretched, begging you to see it like I do. 
I would welcome anything for pink.

Yet, I am showered with the absence of pink, with anti-matter lacking the ingredient I need.

ten fingers and ten toes of pink and I can’t believe

How easily a spell can backfire 
And drown you in the absence of pink.  

 

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Space Between Faces

Remember when we laid side by side, 
Clinging?
Whispering?

I can feel the weight of your arms around me,
Dragging me back down to you
Every time I start to rise.

You have become my anti-hero
Chasing stars in daylight and mapping planets on my floor
All the things I wish for you
Feel empty next to what you have

You have simplicity wrapped inside your thumbs
Like painters have easels 
You have space around you
You need space around you

Remember the silence in the room after
The weight of words I couldn’t say and
You wouldn’t hear 
Space between faces greater than universes and Gods
And I could’ve died in the space

So many apologies
Bargained out of drunk mouths and reaching hands
Pushing and pulling and longing and begging 
All in the space

Lectures about good behavior to learn
Meals we shared to divine the meaning of this 
This, weakening bond that strengthens us
This, lacquered heart in pieces and solid still
This, conquering lesson of too much endurance
And not enough defeatism. 

Be defeated by each other and grow forth
Find each other in thriving worlds of galaxies
Then run, lose each other in the depths of the empty worlds we create

I stumble down golden steps to you
You, the person who lives but doesn’t
Me, the person weighing everything never moving

There is no space between our faces
There are universes between our hearts. 

 

 

Divine

He feels like empty night. He is the sound of screeching birds and the atmosphere that surrounds fire as it burns and mars everything indiscriminately. His presence is the haunting of a man who is always talking but never says anything you want to hear. But he stands. And he looks as if light is surrounding him, as if God put a natural halo upon his skin to indicate that you must pay attention. His eyes are a young boy’s: unpredictable, wild even, as if he might at any time laugh or cry or yell or fall from grace. His hands are big, strong, heavy like your father’s hands, like how they felt when they touched yours, interlocking fingers of imagined promises lying in wait. His feet swing when he is sitting, as if they are a separate entity from him and the pendulum swings force that smile onto his face. The smile is divine.

April’s Fool

I have never been big on pulling pranks on April Fool’s Day. This is due to my complete lack of a normal sense of humor. I am actually a very cruel person, and the pranks that I think of have the potential to lose me my friends. So, I had no plans for April 1st when it came around, other than attending my two classes and maybe drinking later that night. It was, after all, still Thirsty Thursday.

                It was an unusually warm and sunny day, so I was up early and I headed to campus in a skirt, hoping to spend as much time with the sun as possible. This was my first mistake, because although the tan I received from hours in the sun made my skin shine enough to inspire envy, I would of course end up never entering a single classroom. I ran into Rell almost immediately, and we teamed up to find other wandering souls like us, who wanted nothing more than an excuse to skip class.

                We received a text informing us that Mad Mex, the king of Margaritas, was selling their margaritas for only 6 dollars all day. Of course, this meant that a trip to Mad Mex was completely necessary. Rell headed to class while me, Samira, Devlyn, Mike and Dorian took off down Atwood street for margaritas at 3:30. Somehow, we separated from the guys and wandered into McDonalds, confused on our quest for water balloons, which we felt were completely necessary for our April Fools festivities. We never did find any, possibly because we forgot we were looking for them when we exited Mickey D’s.

                As I slowly lead the group out of the 24 hour grease factory, a strange man clasped my hand. If you know anything about me, you know that an act such as this is always asking for embarrassment. I hate being touched, and I despise being touched by strangers, especially male strangers.

“Hi, I’m with Boys and Girls Club of America. We’re out here trying to raise money to help keep kids off the streets and in school. We’re selling candy as a fundraiser. Would you like to make a donation?” Somehow, this man managed to continue holding my hand even as he stopped speaking, and I looked into his hands at a box which used to house candy bars but was now empty, save a single quarter.

“I don’t carry cash.” I stated slowly as I pulled back my hand, with full force. “And..” I started, not even myself knowing the words I was about to utter, “I prefer they stay on the streets.” With these words, I calmly walked away in the opposite direction of the man, right behind the other girls who were now unable to control their laughter. It was almost a block before I realized what I had said, and that was only because the man yelled, “Are you serious?” down the street at me.

                Mad Mex’s margaritas, as it turned out were served in big tall chilled glasses, and so strong that after my margarita, despite the food that I ate before we left, almost got me hit by a car in my drunken stupor. And this was 4 in the afternoon. Mike and I ran across the street to the Hookah bar for supplies (tobacco and coals) to smoke at their house before going over to Qdoba to finish out the day of drinking and general fuckery.

                Their house is one of my favorite places. It is so full of memories, even for me, that I am happy every time I enter the door. We lit up the hookah and sat out on the front porch, smoking and drinking some more. Samira, Dorian and I passed a bottle of E&J around until it was finished. In my usual fashion, I complained that I was much too drunk to drink anymore, until the bottle made its’ way to my lips. Meanwhile, the neighbors came home, with their kids, fresh out of school for the day. They sat out on the porch, like us, unwilling to leave the sunshine which is so rare in Pittsburgh.

                The two little blonde girls played on the porch alone, not 10 feet from us, as we acted as college students do, drinking, cursing loudly and smoking. I believe once I even commented it was bad parenting for those parents to let their young children even live here. The porch we were sitting on had seen so much horrible behavior just in my time here that I knew those poor girls were ahead of the class in understanding just what happens in college. I had such a moment myself out in their street just a year before.

                When the hookah had died and the liquor run out, we joined the others at the bar at Qdoba. I was so drunk at this point I don’t remember if we walked or got a ride there. And, the moments I remember at the bar are not linear in nature. I remember coming in with samira, and ordering us both my favorite drink, Long Island Iced Teas, then following them with Fuck me Hards, and who knows what else. I don’t remember her leaving, but I remember her not being there and other people coming and going, sitting and standing next to me. I bought drinks for whoever was standing next to me at the time I finished my last drink.

                In the manner of a very bad friend, I told a guy whom my roomate had mentioned was fine, that he should go talk to her. They had never met. I explained to him that she was very pretty, much prettier than me, and she liked him. Then, in an attempt to save myself, told him that he could never mention that such a conversation had taken place. I don’t believe this act was actually redeeming. But, he did it, and she left impressed with herself.

                I don’t remember any of the inbetween of this part either. I remember leaving Qdoba and going to find a girl named Amanda who had gone to the Drag show in the union. But shortly after, I was in another bar, this time P Café. I remember going upstairs and finding a live band and being so impressed with it I went back downstairs and brought Rell back up with me. I lost him to a random red head, and since he and I were no more than friends, left him to it and returned downstairs.

                I was all different forms of wasted at this point, but I was delightfully oblivious to it. I thought I was having the best day ever, until I looked at my phone, and found a horrible bbm conversation. My friend Malcolm and I had a conversation, one in which only I had said anything. And, when I saw what I said, I wished that I had just gone to class. I had tried a prank that I was sure would get laughs. Of course, as usual, it was a prank that could only serve to lose me a friend. I had said that I was in love with him.

                Now, since Malcolm and I had a short but memorable history, and my crush on him had just resurfaced to wreak havoc upon my life, this was not a funny joke. This was a scary phrase. Although I had followed this irreversible mistake with multiple bbms explaining that had been my april fools joke, the damage was done. I was afraid, even as I looked over at him to utter even a single word. I knew any denials would sound less true than the false confession.

                Worse, I saw his furious face, as a different girl, one whom I was familiar with, was in his ear. Whereas I was having the best day, Malcolm was in hell. I felt consumed with guilt. Worse than having been annoying and frightening, I was just like this other girl, this girl I used to feel sorry for. I froze in place, not knowing how to navigate this crazy scene I had created. Then, as he passed me, I reached for him and said, “You know it was just a joke, right?”

He turned away, “Yeah, April Fools, I got it.” He moved as rapidly away from me as possible. I let him go, because that was the smartest thing I could think to do. After all, it was over by then, we would never be friends again.

                One of my favorite girls, Allison, was also at P Café and I joined her, Ellie and Mike on a trip to find breakfast food at any diner still open. We headed to Tom’s Diner, and were joined by Malcolm’s roomate Brandon and his girlfriend, Lori. We all ordered from a waitress who was clearly annoyed to still be up, let alone serving us drunken college students. We ate, me having ordered pancakes and home fries. Then, it came time to pay the check. We all pulled out credit cards.

“We can only take one card and cash.” The waitress announced. We didn’t know how to respond to this new rule. We all just held up our cards waiting for her to change her mind. But she didn’t. Finally, the waitress volunteered a solution.

“There’s an atm across the street.” Then she floated away, back to her station, as far away from us troublemakers as possible.  We all stared at Brandy, our driver.

“If I have to go across the street to the atm, I’m getting in my car and going home.” We all laughed, none of us really intending to dine and dash. But, as it turned out, we did. We didn’t even run away, we just gathered our belongings and moved out calmly, I guess the waitress assumed we were headed to the atm. But we weren’t. Poor Brandon and Lori were left with the entire bill.

                There, I thought, that was a real April Fools joke. Our waitress had been sure we were going to pay, but April Fools! We didn’t.