It frustrates me to see others flounder;
to flutter between help and detachment,
assist or with love, let go
acknowledge that others have refused help
as oft as it's been offered.
El otro, the secret
sneaking beneath her strap
thinking there is a map for
this sort of thing.
I had a dream last night
that I was on a stage
with others
and knew no lines.
Realized they all held scripts
and grabbed mine,
saw all the colors
it was printed with
CMYK, he told me
back when I knew nothing about
just about
everything.
Longed to be knowing
but could never see myself so
we traversed the city
talking in ways unique to:
stalin-drenched disappointments
cherry blossom ice cream cones
pictures of natives taken by tourists.
Conversing on what it'd be like
if I were grown, yet still unknown
were his thoughts and the lies I could see
labeled like test tubes over irises.
The others, she said don't breathe a word
every day is lyrics, I was schooled on
how to communicate, and thought
I was cool, it was exciting for a moment-
until it crumpled - stiff paper in a fire,
waiting for the weakness to overcome
completely.
I was still strong then. I envy my young self.
Yet I know so much now.
What price did I pay?
Strength + knowledge = weakness, loneliness
paralysis, insanity... humanity.
Every cheesy joke
coalesces and coagulates
by necessity, into this verse
keep what I need, I will
and I can let go of
all the Others.
(c) Maria Enns 2013 all rights reserved
