Me, Undone

For you I leave the front porch light on stash the key under the rubber mat scribble the password on the door seal part my folds for your fingerprints

Sit watch thunder roll over the harvest moon. Catch 22. Autumn equinox is here. And i, caught between seasons of change.

i have 20 ng/dl of testosterone bruising through my veins. not enough, i guess, to slam your face in to the wall. not enough to bleed you for your evil deeds. they made me of the most delicate of female parts. two mounds, a warm clit, and two ovaries of equal size. you think me weak for them. i have approximately 65 pg/ml of estrogen wasting through me. just enough, i guess, to make you claw the retina from your eyes at the very thought of my scent f a d i n g from your bed. i win.

I've been thirty for four whole days now. I am checking myself, looking down at my legs, wiggling my arms, arching my spine. I have to say, I still feel exactly the same. I suppose I never really felt like I was in my twenties, ever. Call it the Curious Case of Benjamin Button, but I swear to you I did the thirties a long time ago. I got married twice, divorced once (waiting for the courts to recognize the second marriage and then the divorce). I had a significant career change. I buried a parent. Yes, my life is trending in reverse. When I was about eight or nine years old, I loved to watch the television show "thirtysomethings." I guess the turbulence of the program mirrored the turbulence of my childhood. Even at a young age, I connected to adult feelings and failings. On Saturday nights I would sit patiently in front of the television and wait for the show to come on--I'd imagine that one day I would at least be the director of my own confusion. Oh, how I longe

I am not fond of physical limitations. Those pesky little things called barriers--sudden closings and the narrowing of opportunity. I am trapped in a cage with an angry lover. It's bloody battle royale. I am no victim. I did the crime. The punishment is deserved. But that does not stop the horror when faces turn inside out--when laughter disintegrates in to bitter chiding--when touch once so pure and sweet, now reaches out to inflict pain. The consequences have been far too much for me to contemplate. I am shocked and awed. Badly bruised this time. My heart scars a physical manifestation of her blind and uncontrollable rage. This is how she keeps me here, my dear. This is how she keeps me here, I fear.

She said sign your name on the dotted line, the lights went out, and nikki, started to grind...