coming attractions.

The LSAT.
premiering: June 2009.










what if i fail?

the future freaks me out.

if i could wear what i wanted to an interview,
i would wear my favorite magenta leggings,
my blue bonnet my favorite bright ass
paisley forever 21 print top and some
ripped jeans. and my big red purse.

but instead

i'm sitting here this itchy black suit
starched white collar that took me
30 minutes to steam iron correctly
pointed toe heels that i keep rolling
my ankle under in and a smedium
wristlet that holds virtually, nothing.
but it's alright
because in the future
this is what i,
a successful lawyer,
will wear.

so at my interview
for a prestigious atlanta law firm
trying to get an internship this summer
i put on my best please-take-me-seriously
i'm-n0t-just-another-little-colored-girl
-i-go-to-vanderbilt-and-i-can-write-my-ass-off
about-anything-and-i-work-well-with-people
and-i-type-quicker-than-mavis-beacon-so
please-please-pick-me smile.

and she asks me
why i want to be a lawyer.
and thinking about it now
hours later
i could have said all kinds of impressive shit
that would have made her book my flight
delta, first class, for atlanta, georgia
but instead, i said,

i want to change the world.

it was the only thing
on my blissfully honest mind.

she studied my earnest face, smiled,
widely,
and said,
me too.
and proceeded with the interview.

i walked out
into the chill midwestern air
pigeoned toed, because i hate these damn shoes
fell into my car
drove home
and started looking for
summer apartment leases
available in atlanta

his return, part 2.

i hadn't seen him in months but he looked
as handsome as the day i met him
my junior year in highschool. and we gave
each other the obligatory side hug
the one you use with ex-lovers
when i came down stairs, and i sat down at the table and
proceeded to eat my weight in ham.

his green eyes pierced into mine
and i asked him to pass the cranberry sauce
and he obliged. and held my hand. and i just
sat there, looking stupid, missing him
missing us
even though he was three feet to my left.

i went upstairs to take my post grubbage siesta
and he came into my room and sat
on the side of my bed and we
made small talk and he mentioned how he wanted
to straighten his curly mane and i was like yo,
i have a chi flat iron. let's get it.

so with a pink chi in my hand and
220 pounds of ex-boyfriend leaning on me
i proceeded to straighten his locks, sizzling
making him look like one of prince's backup singers.
oddly androgynous. it was a terribly funny idea.

and while i was chi-ing, i dont even think thats a word,
we talked about everything that used to be
and i felt his shoulders relax their tension
and his head leaned against my chest as i attempted
to straighten his back.

45 minutes later he looked like a lebanese lion.
and i don't think i have laughed that hard in years
he was horrified but thought it was funny all the same.
he tickled me, put the chi down and kissed me on my
forehead on my
cheeks on my
lips and held me like he used to
before 300 miles got in between
the only love i could ever attest to.
and it was like nothing had changed. i was still
17 and a cheerleader and he was still 17 and
playing football and we had all the time
to figure out the rest of our lives.
together.

i started to cry and i'm not really sure if its
because i missed him or
i missed us or i missed
home or i missed feeling loved
but in his arms
i could have been in a middle of a monsoon
the eye of a hurricane in the
path of a tornado because i hadn't
felt that safe
in such a long time.

damn.

his return, part 1.

so i guess in 12 hours time
i will have eaten, and passed out with my dog
on the couch while my brother and dad
watch the cowboys play some unfortunate team
[as long as it's not us] and he's there too.
like he has been. for the past three thanksgivings.

i guess the story about him is that well
i used to love him
and now he kicks it with my brother
and pretends that he and i are still tight
the 4th thursday of every november.

the first thanksgiving, we were together.
and in love and he and my daddy shot hoops
afterwards and i took pictures and it was cute.
last thanskgiving, we werent together
but we were in love and i took pictures and he
wrestled with my cousin and it was cute.
this thanksgiving, after this year's...drama
we aren't in love and i won't be taking pictures
of his fine
sexy
finesexyfineeeeesexy lebanese ass because i don't
want to remind myself and get
caught up in bad habits.

i don't want to see him, but i do.
but i really don't want
whatever feelings i used to have
to reemerge onto a thanksgiving table
while daddy is blessing the food, i'm falling
back in love with this boy, before
my mom even asks me do i
want some greens [of course i do].

so i'll leave him alone. yeah.
only speak to him to ask him to pass
the cranberry sauce.

but if he starts getting all cute
smiling his perfect smile wearing
that sweater i got him last christmas
and starts whispering in my ear
uh.

aww maneeee.

grading me.

now that i have the time to really
sit down and

think

i'm thinking about the semester that has
elapsed and i'm taking a red pen
to all the things i've done wrong
could have been better
or should have deleted all together.

and looking at this paper
titled fall 2008 and
it's bleeding and if i was generous
i'd give myself a C+.

as far as the plot:
junior year. chock full of
academic challenges and dealing with
the space between undergraduate life
and the
real world. as far as the romance:
various suitors, some taken more
seriously than others. hopefully
the ones that matter will stick around
for the next assignment. as far as
the friendships: not as many as
last year. a main
friendship has been eliminated,
which creates an interesting twist
but leaves the reader
[and the author] with a bitter taste
in her mouth.


and while all of this sounds depressing,
i'll take a C+ because luckily
there's still time for extra credit.

cincin[nasti].

8 hours on greyhound hell
from one city with a funny sounding c name
to another
speeding down the highway, i'm alone.
going home.

homeward bound to the home i've been
denying they ask me
where i'm from and i say that city in
the midwest where we still
riot in the 21st century
there are a thousand recipes for chili
and jerry springer is our native son.

and 7 hours in i wonder
why i am even going home at all
until we turn the bend in
northern kentucky that i've always considered
to be the most beautiful view and
there's my city at night
glistening gleaming
absolutely stunning
sitting silently,
welcoming its prodigal daughter home.

and i hop off the bus and
fall into my mother's arms and
drive the route back home and
get bowled over by my dog's love and
get kissed on the forehead by daddy and
get put in a full nelson by my little brother and
it's then i know
that no matter how hard i try
or how far i will go i can never
truly distance myself
from home.

housekeeping // superman

sidenote:

hey world. i know of a few people [and probably a few more] who started reading my blog. that's cool and all, but real talk - it's not all going to be poetry, or rhyme, or even make any damn sense. it's just an outlet. which yall are welcome to read but, as ms badu says, i'm an artist and i'm sensitive about my shit.

that being said, here's a blog full of poems and worthy of reading : illuminatemics.blogspot.com
this is my dude nate's blog. he's a freshman at vandy, he's from the chi [lame, but still], and he's been on a different level as of late so checkemout.


and with all the housekeeping out of the way, here's today's piece:



superman

i feel like i've always called you that because
you seem to do it all
go to class
stay AWAKE eat balanced meals
have the audacity to work out every day
do all of your school work and still had the time
to get some coffee and kick it with me.

i can't figure out where you hide your cape
or what telephone booth you change in but
you've saved me time and time again and
i want to repay you in the best
and worst
way

and i don't usually believe in superheroes
any nigga wearing spandex is not my cup of tea
but i've seen you in action, and
damn
sometimes seeing is believing

him, minus one.

so we were talking at dinner
about you and angie mentioned
that she had done some facebook stalking and
that you're back on the market.

i almost got whiplash how quickly
i turned my head to get my blackberry out
do some facebook stalking my damn self
and confirmed this to be true.

and i try to contain my glee because
you've done this before with her because
three years is a long time because
well. it just is. but i think
and clearly im biased but you should
let it burn. or, hell. let me set it on fire
for you.

and i remember that conversation we
had awhile back well
more like a month ago
when i told you that
we couldn't be friends because i wanted
you more than that and every dude
i have thought about talking to
since i met you i have compared
to you but they never add up so you see
its driving me crazy and we need to take a break.

so we took a break. but we got back together
in the platonic sense and you've been there
for me ever since but ever since that night
when you were like
if i didn't have a girl
me and you would work
.
..
...


well. let's get to work.

mating season.

today we went to the tennessee aquarium
and although it seems stupid
to pay for money to learn some shit
when we are trying to BREAK but we had the
bestttt time.

one of the exhibits this year was a penguin exhibit.
i always loved them. i clapped and clapped.
and upon further observance
of penguin behavior i realized that we
as in they and us
are not that different.

there was this one penguin, im assuming was a male
who was apparently trying to court
this female penguin, who was staring at the wall.
and also assumingly, to successfully court a female penguin
you need to bring her something she wants,
like a fish or two,
and she'll give him her affection.

anyway, this penguin
kept digging out ice chips from this chest
waddling up and dropping the chips at her feet
waiting for her response.
but she shook her head and denied him
doesn't his dumbass know that she wants a fish?
and he came back
nine, ten, eleven times
placing ice chips at her feet, each time
she is visibly getting more frustrated. this penguin
wasn't bringing shit to the table.

i felt her pain
and i hope that one day
the both of us will find that male
who will bring to us what we
need the most.

country grammar.

speeding through the mountains of eastern tennessee
[well not speeding. angie was too scared]
we leave our vandy cards behind
[proverbially. because we have to return. eventually]
and leave the drama behind too
[or at least. we try]

and on the way there we talk
about the present surroundings
about times past
about a land called senior year
looming not too far in the distance

and we're going 50 in a 65
but time is flying by so fast that
50 is just fine and we speak slower
more deliberate as we
drive up signal mountain and the
air becomes thinner and all the
bad thoughts and feelings
come out the top of my dome and
drift off into God's sky.