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2004-12-25 4 3:04 a.m.
I have never kissed a girl with freckles before.
My first thoughts upon meeting you.
You struck a figure so ripe it was obscene...
I spent all of that afternoon avoiding you,
Shopping on Christmas Eve
When they said a friend would be tagging along,
I leaned against racks of cargo pants in Old Navy
Goofy is adorable. Goofy is endearing.
Goofy was not prepared for you to come home with us,
"Wanna play Taboo with us?"
And after an afternoon of running,
"Sit here," you said,
Plopped down every African inch
Suddenly our elbows
"You can hate me now..."
Mocking and cajoling;
"But I won't stop now..."
You cussed and flipped the bird,
We dabbled so innocently:
And when it came time to go,
I pined for a good half hour,
A flippant "Keep it real" was what you left me with.
As long as we never again cross paths,
(c) E.Tetteh, 2004
commentary:
i hate the ending.
most of it is real, some of it is lies (eg. i'm not staying w/ my cousin), & some of it is just excuses to use poetic language rather than sincere thought/feeling. i'm feeling that it's become harder...to make truth into poetry for me. i don't know why. & i think that's a big part of why i feel so detached from the craft right now -- it feels so insincere, so contrived, so forced.
turning speech into literature.
"whuddup, girl?" becomes "how fare thee, delicate damsel?" or some such nonsense.
*sigh*...the girl is like the spitting, shorter, whiter, brunette image of Gloria Velez. i couldn't believe it myself. i mean it was all i could do not to stare. she even TALKS like Glory, down to the Latino twang & the slight overbite. today was hard on me, as far as that. i mean generally it takes nekkidness of some sort for folks to catch yr attention if you're on guard. halter-tops, miniskirts, what have you. it's the rare person that can draw madd struggle from you while not an inch of skin is shown. i literally have been studying the sidewalk/carpet all day...
...but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed... (James 1:14)
hair spilling in wet, ochre ringlets,
face too eager, teeth too white.
my eyes cutting away the instant ours locked,
my gaze quick to discover the underrated intricacies
of the pockmarked pavement we walked together.
is always better done in groups,
so that the air of procrastination
weighs less heavily on the mind.
I expected melanin and saddlebags,
like Tasha from dinner last night,
or like myself.
and mumbled hiphop choruses, rapping my knuckles
against the display shelves to keep from looking cool.
or for your invitation,
delivered in such off-hand fashion
I very nearly feigned ignorance...
curiosity got the better of me and I found myself
responding to your second invitation of the night.
patting the carpet beside you. And so I did.
of my animated, adorable, endearing self
and before long I had run out of jokes.
My well of witty anecdotes ran dry
and yet your thirst would not be quenched.
were dangerously close together
and your lips were by my ear,
whispering hiphop choruses...
your hand on my shoulder,
your thigh melting into mine.
as we bickered like the lovers I wished we were,
and thoughts of the boyfriend you'd mentioned
drifted to the dusty corners of my mind
like middle school embarassments,
hurriedly forgotten and clumsily filed away,
only to be stumbled upon later
when nothing but fortune and fantasy remain.
You, frolicking in the freedom
from a significant other...
Me, unshackled from my morality
for one sinfully sweet evening...
you clasped my hand in yours,
flashed a Colgate smile and left for Kansas,
my cousins oblivious to what had almost transpired.
until I realized for the first time
why God keeps certain tests of faith
away from certain men.
I think I just may be able to.
i wrote this a day (2 days?) after confessing to a very good friend online that i wanted to give up on poetry.
