self as girl

still
the girl in school who gets picked last
too tall
too skinny to be good or fast

at anything

listening to led zeppelin & csn&y
too much perfectionist to really know why

...to swing the bat
...to take a shot
discover a way to untie the knot

deep inside
perfection instant
too blond
too weird
and oh so much fear

knowing i had landed on the wrong planet
cat stevens & james taylor my constant companions
all the while peering over the edge of soul's canyon
playing at self & pseudo attraction
tidy & pink in lace pajamas
(tempting the wild, tending the fire)
serving kings & polar bears, little joe & yogi bear
listening to the whispered desperation of the lost & terrified
heart wrapped in glass & thorn'd armor pride

but right there, all along for all to see on heart's sleeve
silent
(everyone assumes apathy)
(emptiness)
(blue ice coolness)
it is a pounding feeling that trembles the earth
paralyzing
rising
tapping into something bigger--brighter--a shaky joyous mirth

is there ever a master plan?
is there a reason?

too much of everything
perfection the mask
resilience the game
not about who gets picked first at all
but who stands alone
with 

a pink lace pajama-heart & wildfire throne