. . . still that girl who gets picked last
too tall, too skinny to be good or fast
at anything
she listens to led zeppelin & csn&y"
too much of a perfectionist
to swing the bat
to take a shot
to discover a way
to untie indigo knots
deep inside
perfection had to be instant
too blond & too weird
so much fear
knowing i had landed on the wrong fucking planet
cat stevens, heart & james taylor were my companions
all the while peering over the edge of souls canyon
playing at sex & seduction
. . dressing up as a playboy bunny in pink lace & a fuzzy-white earmuff bra
i served kings & polar bears, little joe & yogi bear
i heard the silent desperation of the lost & terrified
wrapping my heart in thorns & glass armor
but it was there on my sleeve for all to see
silent, everyone assumes apathy
& emptiness
ice coolness
but it is a feeling pounding & profound that trembles the earth - paralyzing
tapped into something bigger, brighter, grand
is there ever a master plan ?
too much of everything
perfection becomes the mask, the game
and it's not about who gets picked at all
but who finally stands alone with pink lace, heart & a white earmuff bra
