THEY ASKED ME if I was one of those girls

(I do not even remember why...)

Wanted: one muse, willing to work

For perfection is O V E R R A T E D.

I am sitting on subway trains and writing down

E V E R Y T H I N G I have

seen, heard, felt.

I HAVE SOMETHING inside of me that is dark,

blackened.

I do not belong here.

It was a Catholic school, it was patriotic.

Maybe.

It had a strange, unnatural coloring, almost otherworldly

too BIG too UNUSUAL too FRIGHTENING

EVERYTHING HAS its place--

excluding sinus headaches, sleep deprivation,

and love-induced desperation.

I have taken the picture of "THIS IS WHAT SHOULD BE"

and torched it into less-than-ashes.

The magic was gone. I am watching it now.

I DID NOT panic.

"...If I had a blonde ponytail, and a soccer mom..."

(Earth was no place for a girl like her.)

That was my plan all along.

No I'm NOT trying to show up everyone I know

--(no, nothing against those who have, of course)

very CLASSY of them

Everything went B L A C K

I would LIKE to know. I ALREADY know. I just can't talk about it.

I have been cast into the shadow.

Don't even THINK about wearing THAT skirt again.

Whatever YOU'RE feeling, I think YOU should just feel it.

(Perhaps this is true...)

Is that to say the other bed is not MY own?

(I figured that I had chosen this role

and needed to stick with it)

He forgot his shirt in the parlor when he left

He acts all H I G H and M I G H T Y but he is just a figurehead.

And so,

I found myself

without a place