The Chemical Reaction

Never in my life
has a man
looked at me with
the eyes that you did

The hunger
My body a t-bone steak
with a baked potato side
slathered with butter
and sour cream
and every savory indulgence

You somehow saw
the entirety at once
I could tell you were
transfixed
bewitched
though you lacked distinct focus

Your gaze became
a lightning storm
crackling through my veins
And I am caught
motionless
unable to tear myself away
from you
no matter the circumstance

And when we kissed
and you grabbed me
with those big arms
I always fawned over
everything ignited
and fire rushed through
me and through you

And together we
burned in a most
powerful and desperate blaze

We were slaves
we were captives
We were removed—
forced to witness
and blissfully endure
that which we had no
hope of extinguishing

And we walked away
wounded
and now I have the
most glorious
exquisite scars

The Heckler

I can say with much certainty
that you don’t remember me.
Or the time I climbed up
the bleachers of the high school gym
at the varsity basketball game.

I was there to support my friends;
to watch the guy I liked,
running up and down the court,
sweating through his jersey,
his bare arms glistening and taunting me;
the closest I’d get to a hot night with him.

But it was enough for me then.
It had to be.
Because nobody wanted to date
the fat girl in the small town,
no matter how funny or sweet
or charming she might be;
no matter how the mothers
all asked “Why don’t you like her?”
to their sons who rolled their eyes.
We all like her, yes,
but to date her?
That might just end us.

And you knew that, too.
The boy in the bleachers
with the stuck-out ears,
and the too-big teeth.
I could see it in your
playful,
taunting,
sinister,
shining eyes
when you leaned over
to your friend
and pointed at me.
And you laughed as you yelled
“Hey Tony! Look! Look!
It’s your girlfriend!”

And he looked down at me,
his face a shade of shame,
and he hesitated for a moment
before punching you in the arm,
and calling you a “dick”
as he half-chuckled.

Freewrite - "Why do you write/read?"

     I suppose that the most honest response is that I don't, or, at least, not as much as I'd like to.  My background for both reading and writing is generally limited to academic pursuits.  Of course, I've read a few books here and there for recreation, but they are obscenely few and far between.  And, of course, I have the obligatory "personal-blog-that-gets-updated-every-6-12 months". (Ahem.)  But, mostly, reading and writing still remain more aspiration than reality.
   
     However, that doesn't quite answer the question, does it?  I will say that my limited experience certainly doesn't limit my affection.  In fact, one could argue that my being "late to the game" has given me a unique perspective -- a wealth of life experience to relate and compare.

     When I have read, even just for assignments, I've found that it appeals to my very passionate interest in human behavior (hence why I've been studying the social sciences up until now).  More than anything else, what I am most passionate about is developing a better understanding of the complexity of the human experience and all the reasons and motivations for why people behave and feel the way that they do at any given moment.  How do people react to trauma?  To falling in love?  To loss?  To failure?  To heartbreak?  How do these things bind us together and how do they make us truly unique from one another?

     As for writing, I think of it much the same -- only -- it's entirely selfish.  Writing, for me, is adding my own voice to the echoes of human existence.  It's my story; my end of the conversation with all the interconnected bits of my life.  What I write is my diary, my reference guide, and my road map.  I am pursuing it now because my life feels like it is in great transition, and I need writing for documentation, for stability, for motivation, and for understanding.  When I began to explore writing, it got to a point where it eventually felt like the bell that cannot be un-rung.  Something changed -- and I needed it.  I needed to.