Rob,
I love poetry, thanks for posting that
and thanks
Tera for posting "I know why the Cage Bird Sings" I love Maya! Have you ever read any of Nikki Giovanni's poetry? I feel so connected to it. Here's my favorite poem by her.
Her Cruising Car
A Portrait Of Two Small Town Girls
There is nothing...that can be said...that can frighten me
...anymore...Sadden me...perhaps...disgust me...
certainly...but not make me afraid...It has been said...
Learn What You Fear...Then Make Love To It...dance
with it...put it on your dresser...and kiss it good...night
...Say it...over and over...until in the darkest hour...
from the deepest sleep...you can be awakened...to say
Yes...
She never learned...no matter how often people tried...
that it was hers...the fear and the Life...the glory of the
gamble...It was her quarter...she had to pick the machine
...She never understood...simple duty...knowing only to
give all of herself...or none...There was no balance...to
her triangle...though three points...are the strongest
mathematical figures...no tingle...when struck...no joy
...in her song...no comfort in her chair...war/always war
...with who she was...who she wanted to be...and what
they wanted...of her...
One reason I think...I am qualified...to run the world...
though my appointment is not imminent...is when I get...
what I want...I am happy...It is surprising to me...how
few people are...When they win...like Richard Nixon or
John McEnroe...they are unhappy...when they lose...
impossible...One reason I think...I have neither ulcers
nor nail biting habits...is I know to be careful...of what I
want...I just may get it...
She was never taught...that everything is earned...that
Newton was right....for every action there is an equal and
opposite reaction...Interest is obtained...only on Savings
....Personality is developed...only on risk...What is
sought...must first be given...We please others...by
only allowing them access...to that part of ourselves which
is public...If familiarity breeds contempt...use breeds ha-
tred...
Turtles...the kind you find in pet stores...the kind Darwin
met on Galapagos...grow to fit the environment...There
are....probably...some genetic limits...but a small turtle
....in a small bowl...will not outgrow...her home...
Flowers...will rise....proportionate more to the size...of
the pot....than the relationship of sun...to rain...Humans
seldom deviate...If she hadn't been a small town girl...
with a mind and heart moulded absolutely...to fit the environ-
ment...she might have developed...a real skill...a real
desire...to discover herself...and her gifts...As it was...
as it is...she simply got used...and used to using...
She was never a loner....never made....to understand that
life....in fact...is a solitary journey...that only one-...was
going to St. Ives...that no one held her bag...while the
old woman traveled to Skookum...that the little Red Hen
and the Engine That Could...did it themselves...She was
...let's face it...the leader of the pack...the top of the
heap....cheerleader extraordinaire....She was very popular
...sought after by all the right people...for her jokes...
her parties....her parents' car...The telephone was in-
vented...just for her...She set up the friendships...the
going steads...the class officers...yearbook staff...
Who's-In-Who's-Out...through the witch wire...Nothing
could happen...without her input...She actually thought
...it was important...who went with whom...to the jun-
ior prom...But somebody had to pick up the fallen stream-
ers...sweep the now scarred dance floor...turn out the
lights before they could go home...
We were born...in the same year...our mothers delivered
...by the same doctor...of the same city...in the same
hospital...We were little chubby girls in pink...passing
cigarettes at the lawn parties...My mother made me play
...with her...and hers...with me...We didn't really
mind...we shared the same friends...hers...and the
same ideas...mine...Maybe I became...too accustomed
...to the sameness...It was certinly easier...for me to
shed...her friends...than she to shed...my notions...
Our mothers belonged...to the same clubs...Our fathers
tracked...the same night devils...They all had the same
expectations...from..of...at...or to...us...I liked
to brood...she didn't...She liked to laugh...I didn't...
I thought I was ugly...she didn't...
Pots are taught to not call kettles Black...people who live
in glass houses...don't throw stones...small town girls
learn early...or not at all...that they can make a life..or
abort the promise...One of us tried...one of us didn't
have to...To each...according to her birth...from each
according to her ability...Which is bastardized Marx...but
legitimate bourgeoisie...She was never caring...She never
learned to see...beyond her own windshield...that there
were other people on the sidewalk...other cars...on the
road...She drank...too much...for too long...Maybe in
the back of her mind...or heart...or closet....there was a
sign saying: There-Is-More-Than-This...but she wouldn't
pull it put...put it up...or even acknowledge that some
things...many things...were missing...I accept...if not
embrace...the pain...the sign on my car says: I Brake For
Gnomes...the one in my heart reads: Error In Process
Please Send Chocolate...
Into the rising sun....or setting years...accustomed to the
scattered friends littering the road...she drives on...with
the confidence of small town drivers who know every wayfall
...towards the smaller minds.....around the once hopeful
lovers...into the illusion of what it is...to be a woman...
through the delusion that trip necessitates...never once
slowing....to ask Did I Hurt You...May I Love You...
Can I/May I Please Give...You A Lift...With the surety
...of one who never had to walk....she accelerates...
toward boredom...secure in the understanding...that
everybody knows her...and would be unlikely to ticket...
her cruising car...She was my friend...more than a sister
...really...a part of the mirror...against which I adjust...
my makeup...I have no directions...but here is a sign...
Thomas Wolfe was wrong...Maybe it will be read...
Edited by - TheStar on 28 June 2002 22:55:10