Wednesday, December 23, 2009

A Mustard jacket, Lime jacket, Tomato jacket, ugly jackets. Covering veins through winter seasons for seven years.

I have an obsession with veins, blood, muscles
The human body
I compliment my friend’s cat for having lean backbones
Watch the jaguar with jealousy as it prances
I wonder why I couldn’t have been produced in that way
Instead of being clumsy human
It could have been a glittering green-eyed almond head

I see you and a muscle forms, hiding behind your neck
Next to the shoulder
I ask to see your wrist and the veins are blue

It took seven minutes to find a vein that could be penetrated on my arm
My wrist was white
Or beige

When we were six years old, we pressed our thumbs at the top of our wrist
We watched bumps appear
They would tell us how many children we would have “when we grew up”
We would throw pebbles in our mug-like hands and chant to see how big our families would be.
What if there would be no growing up?
What if my best friend’s doll-body was more ready than mine.

I recited, on the inside, my primary monologues
Begging one half bump to appear or perhaps not one,
I purposely threw the pebbles high and messy
I often ended up with none.
I felt mischievous and smart
I had outnumbered fate
And then I was forlorn because I was capable of change

Blonde hair flew and someone pushed my wrist but reached my temple
Looked at me with blue or brown eyes and told me what I’ve always been told

I can be proven wrong.

What if I don’t approve?

We believed that our futures could already be predicted in our bodies

I always felt like I rode my bicycle alone
With wet hair and cold air
The perfume bothered my nose
Nose hair froze with every breath
I always felt like this
I always felt like this

I should have thought of someone else.
I was terrified.

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