the questions.

so i must admit
after a fresh perm
a mini spree at the mall
and poppin lipgloss
ya girl was looking
damn good when i went
to walmart this evening to get
what i needed for the
remainder of the semester from hell.

and i'm in the cosmetic section
perusing maybelline lipgloss
[yeah, i had some on. but you
can never have enough] and i was
in the middle of trying to figure out
if papaya splash smells better to me than
watermelon fresh when this employee

[male, black, almond colored,
about 6 foot even,
broad shoulders,
fresh post-thanksgiving fade, crisp khakis
new looking sperrys, straight teeth,
big smile]

wearing a name tag that yelled
RUSSELL in big black letters tapped me
on my shoulder.

i stood up and put on my mug
because i thought he was going to accuse me of
stealing lip gloss but
from his
full lips, he asked me,

where's your man?

and i just sort of stood there, looking
really stupid. papaya splash in one hand,
watermelon fresh in the other.
i tried to gather my bearings,
re-establish the cool points i clearly lost
licked my lips slowly, squinted my
already chinky eyes and put my hand on
my pronounced hips.

i don't have one, i declared.

you're lying, he stated.

why would i lie? i asked.

because. you look like
the type of girl - excuse me -
the type of woman who would have
a nigga like me on lockdown.


[insert awkward, 10 second pause]


he smiles.
i frown.

well, i say
i guess appearances can be deceiving then,
as i put both papaya and watermelon
back in their respective places.

they're scared of you, russell said.

what? i ask.

i don't even know you, miss,
but i can already tell that
you would make a nigga work for his
and niggas don't like to work for anything
except...you know. he said.

yeah. i know, i replied.

i tried to stand up tall
and make myself look tough.

russ-ell, i breathed slowly.
why are you asking me all these questions?

i don't know, he said.
because i noticed you.
you're a beautiful woman and
your gear is tight but
you looked like you're missing something.

like what, i asked.

like love, he said.

[awkward silence, recommences]

and if you ever wanted to not
be lonely, he continued,
i work at register 23,
monday through friday. so maybe
one saturday you'll let me
take you out and
love you for a night.

i pick up my purse and
pat down my hair and
straighten my skirt and
i say to him

i'm too busy for love
right now but the next time
i come back home
maybe
i'll stop by
register 23.

he gives me a half smile as i
walk past him
trying to convince myself to
believe the words
that just came out of my mouth.

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.

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.

courtesy call.

i really thought he lost my number
but i shouldn't have been too surprised
when my phone rang and his name popped up
trying to get back in good with me
because i'll be back home this weekend
and he thinks it'll be like old times.

i accepted the call but kept my distance.
i told him i was busy doing work
which i was
and that i'd call him back.

i used to wonder
where the love went
between the two of us. i think it
evaporated. or
exploaded or keeled over and died.

but
im not in the business
of resuscitating SHIT
over my thanksgiving break.