Poems to Waxman S2 E4
Nice to Meet You, Birdy
“Keep them guessing,” is what people have said to me. “It is good if they don’t know you are too available. It is good if they think you’re just a little hard to get.”
But I could sprout feathers and fast little bones, I could grow out my cellulite and leg hair, I could transform into something large and fathomless and disgusting and never stop saying ‘Yes’ and ‘Of course!’ and ‘I’m happy you’re here’.
I don’t want you to guess, I want the answer to be yes. From me, I mean, from me I want the sign above my head to be blinking VACANCY at any and all times. See, I have tried to piece together the leftovers. A nearly bare Costco rotisserie chicken, fat runny and slick on the sides. A dirty cloth bow that I wear as a choker in place of your hands. Assorted locks with skeleton keys. The buzz and drone of a lightbulb. The smell of Lady Grey tea. Tried to piece together these leftovers, you know, tried to mash them into obedience like a little white rat. But still my heart leaps and bounds. Could I be the cool girl? Could I? They have a new name for girls like that now -- girls that are desperate and passive aggressive and needy -- they call them ‘Pick Me’ Girls.
I can only drive to a few places, even now. The phobia lingers, you know? Anyway I wake up and I get up -- there is no time to lie in bed -- and these few places, I can drive to them. Used to only drive to and from work. Now I have a handful of places, precious as assorted gems in a chocolates box. I wrap them in crinkled little wax papers. They glow like an oil spill, like a CHECK ENGINE light, like a dog's eyes in twilight. Anyway,
I want to say to you, You make me feel like I can drive anywhere.
I want to say to you, For you I would take the parkway.
I want to say to you, I can meet you anywhere, anywhere you’d like.
I am wondering, was it always this precious to me? Was I always this jealous, this possessive? This desperate and passive aggressive and needy?
Well? I ask you. Was I always this way?
No, you reply, a bit coy, You used to be even worse.
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