dancing with myself

i used to be a ballerina. a long time ago.

i quit because i was too thick for tutus.

but i signed up for dance class when

i was a junior in high school. i was

from out of town

and out of place

and out of shape. i figured that intermediate dance would be

an easy A.

the first day of class

i couldn't help but look at you and laugh

you wore spandex shorts that were tight in all the wrong places

hairy legs coupled with hairy arms and hairy eyebrows

your height made your stature bend like a broken sunflower stem

your mounds of dark curls with your thick indian accent

made you the laughing stock of the class

so of course, you would be assigned to be my dance partner.

naturally.

we were a disaster at disco,

there was nothing sexy about our salsa

and your cha cha slide was cha cha sad.

by the time we started the ballet unit, i had given up

but out of nowhere, God blessed you with the gift of grace

your petite jete` was better than mine

you twirled me out of my fouette and i fell back into your arms

we spun around the gym like two brown and black tops

scuffed slippers leaving our marks behind

you graduated that year.

you went to school and we kept in touch. jokes on facebook

about the time you dropped me on my face and we tried

to tell our teacher it was part of our routine. it never got old.

after a few months, the messages decreased.

one day i clicked on your page

and your friend said you were in the hospital

diagnosed with brain cancer.

my roommate picked me up off the floor after i passed out.

i signed up to take a dance class a few weeks later. i walked in the

door.

everyone was properly dressed.

they all looked limber and relaxed and trained.

no eyebrows that needed to be plucked.

no inappropriate jokes. no one broke out into a pseudo split.

no one was like you. so i left.

i sent you messages.

when you felt well enough to read them, you responded.

you said you were losing alot of your hair due to the chemo.

and that when we danced again, your forcefield of fur

wouldn't get in the way. only you could make chemo funny.

i laughed. for you.

last summer, you went into remission. i couldn't have been happier.

this summer, the cancer spread to your lungs. i couldn't believe it.

this tuesday morning, you died. i can't comprehend still.

you danced on to a different dimension

a place that your partner can't find you.

where your crooked smile and spandex shorts

don't matter.

i prayed you'd save the last dance for me

but you've gone backstage, around the corner

and on to the final show

performing for an audience that will applaud for an eternity

after i heard the news that you passed

i went downstairs to a mirrored room with bars.

i danced.

moves i hadn't done in years i performed fluidly

i spun like a top, fouette after fouette

dancing with myself

only one half of our pair

leaving marks on the linoleum floor

like we had done 5 years before

your swan song was beautiful

but i have to, i need to see more

and i'm begging for an encore

i'm begging for an encore

the triumvirate.

the triumvirate

three years ago a balmy night in august

the three of us were cooped up in a tent

we hadn't taken a chemistry test to fail yet

and we didn't know what slow grinds were

but i remember laying next to angelica

and falling asleep on michael thinking

what the hell had i gotten myself into

and three years later we have been through

every argument imaginable

and every possible incident known to man

but at the end of the day

or at the middle of the night, rather,

we're willing to pitch a tent and do it all over again

falling asleep soundly to the slumber of the other two

there were days that i thought we'd never

speak again let alone sleep again

in the space vicinity but our friendship

the triumvirate is battle tested

when we fall out we never fall apart

we become some sort of impenetrable force

i've learned not to question God's plan and

why he led me to these two and why

we've stuck through it all the way we do but

i'm me. i'm ashley. for having known the two of you

michael snores but he'd never admit it

and angie tosses more than she tends to believe

but these odds and ends of three years of

chaos

and bliss

are nothing but familiar lullabies

that sooth my soul

when days like today wear me out

i'm blanketed in a quilt of friendship

spread over the three of us

God's got it under control

13 / 20 : say say say.

back from dc. crazy weekend. poet trees time.

say say say

i don't know where to begin

i don't know what to say

say

say

to you except that you

make

everything seem so simple

and easy

even a woman as incomprehensible

as me

and i don't know what to say

when it comes to my exboyfriends

and i don't know what to say

when it comes to my family's lifestyle

and i don't know what to say

when it comes to my love for arena rock

but i feel like

whenever i do figure out what to say

say

say

you'll listen with open ears

open heart

and you'll invite me in

12 / 30 : i dreamed a dream.

dc today.

i dreamed a dream

i dreamed a dream of a life worth living

and to see it go up in smoke

puff puff pass

with just one

wrong move

tears my soul in two

is there any way i can

text l. hughes and ask him

what happens to a dream

deferred

11 / 30 : ice cream paint job.

at work. i got the heat on because it makes me feel like i have a blanket on. and the residents seem to enjoy it when they walk in soooooo. that's good.

ice cream paint job

i'm sitting at work only sort of paying attention

to what i'm being paid to do because

i have the heat on 80 degrees to cover me

like a blanket

i look outside the window to see the sky

arched with orange and pinks

speckles of purple and blue graffiti blasted on

this canvas above my head God must

be feeling extremely creative and as

the minutes roll by the background changes

the colors blend in to each other as He mixes

and blends and rolls his paint above my head the

colors are so dense i feel that drop of rich red will

fall on my head like rain

i must look like a complete idiot

with my mouth hanging open staring at the sky

but i think it's even crazier

that they aren't even looking up

at all

10 / 30 : you don't know my name.

4 papers due today. i'm a beast. i'm a dog. i'm sleepy.

you don't know my name

it's funny how you could know me almost

biblically

from the hairs that stand up on my head

alpha

to the the curvature in my heels

omega

but

it's funny that when our paths finally cross

you just shoot

me a wink and

you just shoot

a half hearted smile

so i'm

i'm laying on the ground with a chest pelted with

wayward bullets

you're killing me

and all the same you don't even

know my name

9 / 30 : beautiful.

i'm squatting here waiting for a vandy van. just finished a paper in the commons since i cant write in my room and i was helping jess unbraid her hair/provide comic relief. anyway, yeah.

beautiful

every time you see me you tell me i look

beautiful

and i can't help but blush and say

thank you

i'm usually quick with a witty retort

or i have

some smart ass comment to dispel but

you look at me like

you really believe that i looked

beautiful

last night

i've been given many compliments in my life

from many men at

various occasions but

the sincerity in your smile and

the way your eyes met mine

it was thirty four degrees outside

and it's been 20 degrees inside my heart

for awhile now but you've come along like

an early spring

thawing me out and bringing color to my days

making everything

and me

seem

beautiful

again

8 / 30 : houstatlantavegas.

thursdays are my tv days.

houstatlantavegas

the way he looks at me

when i bend over in high heels

in order to appease him and make

both of his heads spin

can only be described as

ecstasy

7 / 30 : the love of my life.

i proclaimed today to be a good day and ALAS. it was. the funk is officially over. let homecoming week begin. even though i think it started already? irrelevant.

the love of my life

as a young girl i sat and wondered

as i drew sketches of satin wedding dresses

when i would find the man i would marry

sometimes i think that we've met

maybe he was my 4th grade penpal

that i used to talk about michael jackson songs with

licking envelopes and spraying them with perfume

i cried when he wrote one day he'd be moving away

or maybe he was my boyfriend freshman year in high school

he was a senior so my father didn't approve

and he saw beyond the short skirt pon poms and fat ass

held my hand underneath the bus seat

and read me poetry he wrote in third period

he could be my first love

the only man who i've ever bared my soul

and everything else

for

his touch took me to ecstasy and he pleasured me

just by simply watching gossip girl and pretending

to be interested

perhaps i see him everyday

maybe he's the nigga in line for tortellini

who sits behind me in my tuesday/thursday class

maybe he picked up the plate i dropped in rand

or i've danced with him at a party

or maybe he's been by my side

this whole time

6 / 30 : weekend [outer space flow].

i hate papers. i hate papers. oh, goodness. but whateva.

weekend [outer space flow].

monday through thursday you are

off-limits, outer limits

and monday through thursday i often

pass right by you like a shooting star

out of grasp, out of space

your eyes are wide as a full moon as

you watch my hips roll by like a tide

lapping up against the shore

but on the weekend something

shifts

maybe the planets align or

some stars are doing some weird shit

but we are always orbiting around each other

waiting expectantly for our paths to

collide

create a beautiful disaster

an explosion in between my knees

that we'll have to clean up monday morning

before the others wake with the sun to find

the crater that our anxious chemistry

created

5 / 30 : other side of the game.

normalcy, whatever it means at the moment, is good.

other side of the game

my girls told me that

no one had ever looked so good in blue

from head to toe

just needed accessories to match

a week before we slept in a massive suite

living a life of decadence

a week later three of us on one couch

cramped and uncomfortable

when the cards were re-dealt

turning from luxury to lamentations

they were still there with me

even on the other side of the game

bless them

4 / 30 : seasons [run this town].

oh boy.....

seasons

daddy

im sure the creole slipped off of your tongue

as you peered from your rooftop in roselawn

to see the scoreboard at riverbend stadium

you heard the crowd go wild and you yelled

geaux bengals

and hooted loudly until

your mother told you it was time for dinner

you dreamed of being bigger than big

you wanted to call the plays on the turf

you needed to run this town

that had birthed you as your haitian heritage

got lost in between one of cincinnati's seven hills

and you dreamed a dream as american as skyline chili

thirty years later

many seasons have gone by and you have coached

in every major arena under the sun but you always

wanted to go back to the five one three

and be the hometown hero you never

wanted to forget that you were spoon fed stoop dreams

remembered legendary passes from your rooftop

its october and seasons change as they always do

the fall always makes me think of you

as you suit up in whatever color is appropriate

for the city we are living in for the year

for the month

for the moment

but i knew as soon as you put on a cap

colored orange and black you felt like

you had come full circle

at home games when i'm in town when our team touches down

you'll look up at the stands and point at me

always

and when you're away in seattle

atlanta

new york

chicago

and we make a big play i know you're doing the same

i called you today after we won and you were

crying

we hadn't been number 1 since 1988 before

i could walk and before michael was born

a different season in your life when you could only dream

that you'd be on the team

roster

daddy

i'll never understand the man

behind smile and the ray bans but

as the seasons change

as they always do

i'll be in the stands

every chance i can

cheering for you

3 / 30 : the space between.

i slept a lot today until the mentor/mentee dinner. i love my kids and all my fellow mentors. yayayayayayay. now i have the itis.

the space between

my leg is nervously pumping under the table

and an uneasy shy smile spreads like butter

across my cocoa colored face

he speaks like philly while

he speaks of physics and philippians

he's here to get his phD in a field that is literally

out of this world but right now

he's studying my words and my smile

i can't help but to enjoy the moment

despite the fact that i'm in the middle of

a crowded restaurant near campus

and there is 2 feet of table between us 2

the space between has never seemed

so inconsequential

2 / 30 : big.

this weekend is about to be real boring. meh. poem time.

big

after i spoke to you today and you left out the door

you put the proverbial nail in the coffin

of this terrible week

may it rest in peace

while i pick up the pieces

in the commons i'm trying desperately

to appear presidential

immaculately dressed with a poker face

voice quivering out of a frozen smile

i walk off stage and take a picture

standing noble like barack with his nobel

pieces of me dance across the lens

i stand tall but i can't help but feel

so small

in the bathroom i'm washing pools of mascara

from my face

charcoal and koal dripping into the bowl

a little girl comes in with blonde hair and a bowl cut

standing on her tip toes

to wash her hands clean from paint

after she scrubbed her innocence off

she turned to me

still washing my sorrow down the drain

and said

i saw you on stage with the microphone

looked so tall

your voice is so cool

and big

i smiled and said thank you

held the door for her as she excited

and ran off to get some apple cider

i couldn't help but find it funny

that a little six year old girl helped me

grow so quick

from small to back to big

1 / 30 : i'll wait and pray, part 2

so i decided to start a 30/30 again. i need to be fresh. and the pressure of day to day living has gotten me down. time to get back to what i know. and i know how to write. i don't know if i write well, but it keeps me honest and. that's all i can ask for.

i'll wait and pray, part 2

it is autumn now

the days are getting shorter

by 7 pm i am enveloped in a void darkness

the october chill is so cold it would stop my heart

if i had one to speak of

i don't keep you around to keep me warm

i have men beating down my door to heat my sheets

but you seem to warm my heart

in a way that none of them can hold a candle to

without a match or kerosene your very essence

can keep me snug and secure for hours

we don't even hug seriously

it would make a mockery of

our emotional intensity

i don't find myself longing to be in your arms

or to fall asleep in your embrace

a digital stroke from your keyboard

down the spine of my computer screen

messaging me

'good morning' is more than enough for me

but now those days

have seemed to been swept away

with the fading remnants of an indian summer

that i had stolen but you gave back

i'm sure that you'll return soon

on a gust of october wind on the coattails of

the cascading leaves dancing across my window

there's nothing left for me to do

so

i'll wait and pray

pills.

pills

susie wakes up every morning shaking

spiral curls from in front of her eyelashes

stretches and slides out of her sheets ready

to take a shower to start her day but she

can't go anywhere until she lysols each linoleum tile

in the bathroom stall she spends hours slumped over with scrubbing bubbles

sixty times in a slow clockwise motion to ensure

its is safe to soak in

30 times counterclockwise to get rid of the grime

invisible enemies of disease that she cannot see

she wakes up at 9 and doesn't shower until 11:30

she hides her disorder in the stall where no one can see

susie is suffering from OCD

they told her she is a hazard to herself and she's crazy

she is an unproductive nonfunctioning member of society

without her

pills

chris can't shake the countless thoughts in his cerebral

he walks down the street to the beats of several drummers

the beat is so rapid the tempo melts into fluidity

it takes him hours to plan what he will eat for dinner when

one voice is screaming sushi and the other moans for mexican

he doesn't have any friends but he is never lonely in bed

he shares his twin mattress with the 30 voices in his head

its a party every evening and he's a great host

he can't go to sleep until everyone shuts up and leaves

so he spends most of his nights talking back to himself

yelling at himself laughing with himself laughing at himself

gossiping about himself plotting with himself

in a room where he is the only resounding voice

in a world that calls him crazy

schizophrenia has torn his world into two and threes

its 11:30 PM and chris leans over his bed grabs a bottle of water

and pops his

pills

matthew is mad as a motherfucker and

sobbing solemnly at the same time

his mother doesn't get why he's so sad and his

stepfather sits sullenly at the dinner table

as matt pushes the food around his plate

not hungry enough to let it reach his palate his mother

brings up a bad grade in biology and he snaps

he throws his plate against the wall it shatters and splints

like the synapses and neurons in his skull

his serotonin is slowin to a complete halt

he runs to his room with pieces of plates

and slowly slits his wrists until the sight of his pain

dripping on to his bedspread makes him feel alive again

he's a walking corpse at 11:30 PM

his mother is downstairs rifling through her purse

desperate to fill an emergency prescription for his

pills

ashley awakens every morning with anxiety on her breath

she brushes her teeth clean every morning but cant shake the taste

scrubs her tongue in hopes that a fresh palate will make her mind placid

she doesn't know what it feels like to really relax

she spends her summers locked in her room submitting to bad habits

anything to keep herself busy and her mind off her mind

if she sneezes she thinks she has swine flu

if she coughs she's overly concerned about a cold

if she feels nauseous she knows she has pneumonia

her thoughts get carried away like a hot air balloon and take off

like a jet engine she believe it she spazzes she can't breathe

she falls to her knees and her vision tunnels she swears she cant see

her confidence is comatose at 11:30

she shutters and shakes and her mother's heart breaks

as her daughter cries out for help hundreds of miles away

she picks her defeated body off her dorm room floor

prays to God for inner peace before she takes her

pills

they used to lock and throw away the key

for crazy ass women like me who they say lost

a grip on our sanity

but instead they inject and sedate us

write a prescription and medicate us

pluck us like rogue weeds and eradicate us

dissect then re-conjugate us

strip us of our essence to desecrate us

but if i was to shout from the highest mount ain

that i am no different than you now, i wasn't then i'm just

hiding behind a wall of insecurity because of

this label you've placed on them on me

schizophrenic

depressed

OCD

anxiety

but i've been here this whole time and i'll

be here long after you're gone

and while you're still finding your niche

i'll sit here bloom blossom and become a BOSS bitch

you'd pick me up

place me down and say

this woman is obviously mentally ill

someone strap her down

dope her up

and give this crazy bitch her

pills

30 / 30 : ecclesiastes 9:11.

last poem of the month.

it's been crazy, crazy crazy.

thank you for reading. ive enjoyed the criticism and encouragement.

start your own. keep writing. and reading.

everyone's a poet.

ecclesiastes 9:11

i woke up this morning 

for the first time in four months

without my mother down the hall

to the sound of an incoming message

to my phone

i lazily rolled over 

in my freshly washed linen

in my freshly cleaned room

to a text from her that

declared

the race goes not to the swift

nor the strong

but he who endureth 

in the end

ecclesiastes 9:11

right now i'm in the race for my life

to make sure my future fits 

securely in my palm and snug

in my pocket 

pressed and panicked

each stroke of the clock would set me

off 

but reading that

from the wisest woman that i know

made me smile and i slowly

relaxed

fell back asleep

29 / 30 : being back.

laying in bed next to angie [no homo] on the bsa retreat. back to vandyland. welcome to senior year.

being back

rolling up to towers two

i walked in the front door like

i had hundreds of times before

and it didn't even feel like 

i hadn't been back in four months

in fact it felt like i never left

and as many times as i 

prayed desperately to leave

now i'm holding on to these days

with the jaws of life

28 / 30 : it's the end of the world as we know it [and i feel fine]

all packed. will be back for the last time in t-minus 12 hours.

this is exciting and terrifying, all at the same time.

it's the end of the world as we know it [and i feel fine]

three years ago i begged my mother

for an rainbow colored bedspread 

that was over her budget

as most things are

i promised that i would take care of it

and do my laundry every week

she said as long as i didn't have sex 

on that 100 dollar bed set

she'll buy it because it'll last

four years

tonight i lugged my bedspread

out of the mildewy mess of our basement

i couldn't help but stick my nose in the fabric

and inhale

it smelled like the first day of school

when i lived in lupton house

i had lain my outfit on my bed

with deliberate care my boyfriend and i

had bought it for that very occasion

he said i looked beautiful in it

and he kissed me on the cheek

i'll never forget the night i left him 

for a new life back down south and how

i cradled his 6'2 frame in my arms as he

sobbed secrets in my shoulders telling me

how he loved me so much 

and he'd catch the first bus down 

when he could scrounge up the change

but by the time he showed up 

baggage in hand and a smile on his face

i had changed

it sort of smells like sophomore year tears

a salty and relentless odor of unrequited love

and girlish gossip that sent me

over the edge one day that

cold winter

i sobbed in my bedspread, bare feet on the floor

my heart wanted to be at ohio state

i didn't want to cry anymore because tears

were not enough to keep me

enclosed in the halls of gillette house

i wanted out but angie and michael

wiped away my watery woes and gave me

the good sense to see beyond that day

that week that month

and gave me clarity the three of us

the triumvirate 

were tighter than thieves and if

i didn't have them then 

i'd be bleeding scarlet and grey

along with half of the high school  

i tried so hard to leave behind

i closed my eyes and i could smell the

scent of sexuality from junior year

so strong that bleach couldn't wash it out

i needed a calendar to keep up with

the dudes i was talking to and i was forgetting

the names of the guys who stopped through

they would always make themselves at home

on my bed spread, expecting me to strip 

tease them 

ease them out of their clothes but 

my chastity wouldn't let me

but i can still remember being wrapped together

like poetry and prose

under my covers 

with him and the gust of wind 

he blew in on

as we struggled to find a label

that fit

for what we were 

and weren't

and i can't forget the one who

would drive miles to get underneath my sheets

sneaking him upstairs 

and how he gave me chills he was

ice cold but he promised to warm me up

and he did

he wanted to turn the heat up full blast

but i had to cut him off and he began to 

melt

but the one who held me tight every night

who could very well say my bed was his

and i couldn't get enough of the way he

touched me

saved me 

the best way he knew how

from the coldest winter ever 

by just being there

and shielding me

from my nightmares

and as i folded up the bedspread

tightly

a testament of the dreams and schemes

of the past three years

each one different in every way possible

than the year before it 

i slam the car door shut

with my whole life peeking at me

out of the back window

heading down I 71 for the last time

and it's the beginning

of the end of the world as i know it

but

i feel fine

27 / 30 : hatehatehate.

ahhhhhhh whatttt. SCHOOOOOL!

hatehatehate

i like doing 

the exact opposite

of what i'm not supposed to do

but you hate it

because you'll never be me

but if you were you'd do it too

so get your stencil out

trace me

make some patterns

get the fabric

snip and sew it up

and try me on for size

because that's as close

as you'll ever get

haters.