a flip-flop song

perhaps we create you and me
to make life more bearable
but who are you? who am I?
we don’t even see each other again
did you see the new shade on my lids?
and I didn’t witness a hair coming
it’s all random pictures
you look awful with hair, I tell you,
your pony tail is not sexy
but you never listen
I know I make you happy
like yesterday
when we called each other by our
diminutive (some genitalia) names
have I told you you write better
when you’re happy? and I – I,
contribute to that?
at other times we fight
we bleed, we hide the blood,
we annoy each other less,
but say countless of “shoot,” “shit,”
“fuck,” and “stupid”
and more and more desperate
poems are produced, re-produced,
discarded, and wept over
we become agnostic of each other

I don’t remember your smell – I mean
your true smell, because you dab perfume
over your sweaty body
over the smell of another woman’s sex
on your body -- all of those
go all the way into my
intestines

I’m sure you’ve forgotten the pain
of me pulling the hair in your arm
I'm sure you've vomited me

and I read you reply:
Agnes, shut your fuckin mouth up!

.

those pictures speak
aloud. they holler
they make fun of
me. aku. stupid.
that ballerina on
your lap
the crotch
one of my legs
used to rest on

Life in the morning

Life was her name. She woke up this morning to find out that she was only half of her. She went to the mirror to see if it was still deceptive as said in many references she had read. The mirror is deceptive, my dear. No. Especially her fingers from that surviving half of her could feel the rough edges of what used to be her middle part, seen vertically. Shit! How am I gonna drink my coffee like this? She started out with the walk, of course. It was always a good sign of independence. Look at babies! On your foot! She looked at her toes – the nails were painted metallic green from the night before. She only half remembered, but her only half mouth still could taste that Paulaner beer she deplored yet couldn’t resist her buddies had brought in. I think I danced a bit, yes. And probably hit my head against the poker table last night. Who knows? Her half-regained consciousness reminded her to stop bothering about the past because it wasn’t there anymore anyway. Walk. Walk. Walk. … No. That couldn’t be it. That was not how to call it now that she only had a half head and face, half torso, a leg, a foot, an arm – a whole half body. Walk, according to the American Oxford Dictionary is "move at a regular and fairly slow pace by lifting and setting down each foot in turn, never having both feet off the ground at once" … no shit. So big deal. She learned how to move from one spot to another, to put it simply. She hit a wall and all, but she managed to get to the kitchen. Brewing a cup of coffee was a pretty tough quest with her unpardonable situation. But she laughed. She wished she could slice the cup in halves to have “a half cup of coffee” just like Alice in her insane tea party with March Hare and Mad Hatter. While waiting for her half cup of coffee to be ready, Life motioned to the glass sliding door, opened the blinds and the door, leaving the screen door shut just enough to make her feel the cold breeze. She felt pain in her improperly cut parts. There was a price for curiosity. But go on keep your curiosity alive. You’ll get cuts and bruises as a bonus! Was it the meaning behind that narcissistic cat’s grin? She wondered. Chesire Cat. How could a warning be tempting? How tedious, she thought. That was a game she had learned for quite a while. She carved a grin on her half face with some difficulty. There. Smile at your own misery. Her only nostril smelled the coffee and her ear heard no more hiss from the coffeemaker. It pumped her a bit. She walked back to kitchen. With ease. With a simple joy of having been able to brew a half cup of coffee. Walk? Of course. Didn’t I tell you she got pumped up? Though not entirely, no! Why ‘most’ if you can get enough with some ‘more’? Life is not whole yet, but it is not half either. Life is three-quarter with just a missing 'f'.

[april 12, 2007]

and so

do you want this bread or not?
it smells like and gives the same effect as
beers you don't drink
it's waiting to be thrown away

when we were at the railings,
looking down at those fancy chairs
and napkins, and heads,
what were we laughing at?
the coffee that didn't quite go
with me wondering if you
were a gay or not?
the occasion that was
almost as stupid as what it
turned out much later?
what i had read from the start
missing from your face and
your palm?
you were like passion fruits,
you noticed?

what we do. instead of.
instead of. you never did.
fun as always. pain as always.

i can only curse
i can only love
and hesitate in between

don't be

don't be a stranger, love
just go away now while i still
smell your perfume in my hair

when you go, love
leave a random journal on
a tombstone with a name
- a history you whispered
as morning crept in
take no notice of
what i'm keeping

move my leg tenderly
i'll do the rest
you sneak out
away i turn from you
run if you will
the wind dries away
the wet on the face

don't be a stranger, love
ghost in my haunted ship
the sweet, the love, the
careless jerk
you

then and now

i'm an alumna of "life is heavy" school
do you remember?
when dad died of lies and heavy pills
and mom died alone, eyes not properly
shut. do you remember?
i was so attentive. sickly but
serene, and attentive
you made poems of me like i
ceased to be living
i rented a big love to you
you wouldn't be able to
pay me
i fed your eyes with longing
for my saliva
where were you when i was
on my death bed?

"life is so light" said the doctor
it is only an outline,
a dwarf's wish to kiss the
giant's forehead
so where are you now when i'm
all right and tentatively happy?
what do you fill your pockets with?
will i find you on the riverbed?

we'll play with my hat on

i know this game
and i still want it

looks like ee's a knee breaker
so? even better!
i can exercise my new
theories
both of us will play
ping pong during the day
the loser will swear at
the winner, who will
fuck ee before leaving
we'll take partners
and be kind enemies
we'll keep the table
green and white
we'll bump
and injure knees

we'll rest in the evening
what's my detail, doctor?
what's her detail? wait,
maybe i know
i'll crawl on the mirror
up to ee's knees

we will kiss
we will hate
we will die alive
be a lover of mine, monster!
keep playing. let's keep playing,
even if my theories prove wrong