at eleven years old
i danced to a tune
damning sobriety, abstinence, dignity--
draped in sequins,
the words spilled out of my mouth
onto a crowd, grinning at my flapping feet,
my stubby legs, that big pink bow.
i never thought a decade later
i'd be a parade of your failures,
floating through,
job after job like drink after drink,
wanting to be more than somebody's loser.
i stumble over foreign tongues
as you,
wrap mine around them,
tasting europe without a fork,
traisping over continents
too exotic for me and my dated hair cut.
i too long for that mein herr,
thick arms within which to suffocate
and drown in more than just
aged wine,
but i'd know love, sally,
and maybe this time, i'll win.
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