"i want it hard, mystical, tender, and correct/without expectations but all of them met..."--Tamia
I've been a writer since I was four years old, literally. At the age of four I wrote my first short story. As such, for years and years--until I was maybe about 22 or 23--I wrote every single day. Whether it was an article (I wrote for my school paper and literary magazines in HS and college), a short story, copy for television or my radio show in college, a song, or someone else's term paper (I did everyone's work, never charged and regret it now!), I put pen to paper daily. Maybe three out of seven days in a week, I'd write a poem. Of course, my last year of college was over a long time ago, and I've written approximately one poem (other than songs, which don't count for me) in the past six years. But for some reason, this past Sunday night I felt something tugging at me and I couldn't wait to get home to write.
I was sitting in Kitchen 24 in Hollywood, just observing. Some guy was trying to talk to me and get my number, and he was good-looking and nice and cool and sweet and just the type of guy I'd go for if I wasn't me.
I looked at him as he was speaking and just thought "no, this is not it." And I felt certain in that moment, as I always have, that when it is "it", I will know. Emphatically. It won't be hard, I won't have to be sold, it won't have to grow on me like fungus. I will just know. Anyhow, out of that thought came a poem.
He locks eyes with me
I find it impossible to look away
but there's too much promise,
too much potential.
This man is speaking to someone else
but looking at me and I am looking at him and we are looking at
He stops talking because he must know my name,
and I must tell him,
and when he sits close to me I feel all the space, air bubbles, all the invisible holes from which leaks spring in my life being filled
I don’t know what he will say, but I know how he'll say it instinctively.
of meeting him
has altered something permanent
I will give him a way to contact me
He will give me a way to contact him
And the first time I'm alone with him
all I will think of is his smell
that intense scent of cologne purchased where it's sold exclusively, that odor of care and attention and sophistication
And when I'm alone after being with him, I will smell myself over and over and I will not wash the clothes that I wore when I was with him until I see him again
This man will have a voice: distinctive, sharp, intelligent, clear, direct, solid
And when he speaks I will believe it
And when he doesn't I will trust it
This man will call me first when things go South, if they go South
he will trust me
He will trust that I am able to do the thing
to fix what's broken
He will trust that I will fight
He will admire my principles,
respect the things about me that I cannot change and do not want to.
He will be uncompromising, easygoing
He will walk the same way down the street in the 'hood as he does down Rodeo Drive
And the way he walks that walk will make those who pay attention to those kind of things pay attention to him
This man is sexy
There is sex in his touch and his gaze and his voice and his smell and his clothes and his carriage and his posture
There is sex in his sex.
But only when he's with me.
And when he gives it to me, I will take it
and treasure it
and give it back
and know that his is the last I ever want, for sure.
And mine is all he wants, Forever Unafraid,
this man will take my advice--not just when things can't get any worse, but before there's a problem This man will sing to me…softly, sweetly, passionately and on key in the dark corners of our evenings
and I will let him sing as long as he wants because he will be singing about love and loving me.
And I will sing to him with his head in my lap and feel close to God when he's sleeping
next to me.
This man's creativity challenges mine
in unexpected ways
and I don't always agree with his methods but his integrity blows my mind over and over and over again
for the rest of our lives.
Makes a decision and does not back down from it,
and makes me feel like I've joined an exclusive club if I buy his opinion over my own.
This man's mind leaves me speechless at times-
Confounded by my inability to respond and yet I challenge him in ways he thought impossible.
And we will discuss, and comprehend, and understand each other
better over time
better than anyone else can understand us.
We will build a language all our own
that hums late at night in our bed, early in the morning in our bathroom,
in the car,
in the store,
in the fish spot downtown,
in exotic restaurants all over the world,
in the streets of Paris and Istanbul and Johannesburg and Seychelles
and the museums of Philly and DC and Virginia,
in the subways of New York and the freeways of California,
in the dimly lit cabins of commercial airlines,
on quiet islands in easily-mispronounced countries,
through our neighborhood at dusk... the harmony of us,
the harmony of which I will miss whenever he's away.
This man knows God and God knows him
and so I feel safe when I'm with him,
He goes before me and I never feel as though I'm walking behind him.
I am comfortable following his lead
I am comfortable following him anywhere.
This man will give me the greatest gifts anyone has ever given me
and we will watch them grow out of my belly
and bring them home
and teach them how to love, how to learn
how to live.
He locks eyes with me.
And locks hands with me.
Locks minds with me.
Locks hearts with me.
Locks spirits with me.
Locks bodies with me.
He locks families with me.
Locks addresses with me.
Locks destinies with me.
This man locks lives with me
and I with him
and we're both