an alternating impulse

If another android
calls you a robot
does it hurt you more,
or is it less?

I am nobody.

I walk the hall of many places

the streets of blooming and barren cities

and the molding of rooms full and empty

is my footpath.

These are not new haunts, or lurks, for me;

I have sat in the shadows of giants,

nursed at the teet of revolutions,

And spoken into the ear of power there

from my beige on beige perches and portals.

Those who possess kind words leave only

sheer slugs trails of personal expression and experience

My near invisibility intact when I, seated, am near

when the exchange of profession and proclamations

of projects produced are rung out.

My history, footprints, leave no trace there

and there is no reminders as to where I have tread.

Allied, Unallied, Re-Ally.

Allied forces grey and green and flying

Technicolor on the television

our memorabilia reflecting

reminiscing

that our father's father's (father's)

alliance was not based on the same

wants needs expectations

of our allies...

And today I sit in a sea wider

Broader than the Atlantic that frothed

at Nomandy when my "grandfather"

climbed

the beaches soon to be wet with

a fluid that is NOT ocean

contemplate wonder self-doubt

me as ally...

My ancestral family rose up out of

Normandy and conquered and pillaged

presumed dominance

over those whose father's fathers were kings

In the name of our own prides

to subjugate the pride of a culture still rebuilding from

the last invasion...

I have to ask myself if their blood runs

too hot within my veins? Does it

spoil

my heart beats, my ancestral privilege?

Does conquest or obliviousness run in the

double helix of my fathers and again

in me...?

As my Grandfather's brothers walked into

a camp teeming with death unpredicted-

unimaginable-

did they feel the foot of their soul sink

into the quicksand of realization?

Or did they allow pride to restablize

them as heros....?

When we cast our roles as heros

denying how we conquest or ally without

perspective

how is that any different than the ignorance

we declare ourselves fighting to conquer?

Good things do sometimes come from our ignorances-

but should they?

I'm the girl you take home to mama
right before you bring her your future wife
The one you brought to your cousin's wedding
but forgot to invite to your own.

I should have forgotten about forever
again
because I"m never more than expectation
And I'm trying to refrain from being jaded
this time
But we both know I'm the same girl again.

I don't know what my expectations are
(Self delusion and hope springs eternal in youth)
when I'm the secret you try to have
right before you learned which were yours to keep.

I should know better than forever
this time
because I'm always short of expectations
And I'm sitting at the bar Jaded
Again
Because I'm the girl singing the same refrain.

I'm the last grasp at youth
while you make the step into maturity
and the last coat you shed
from the days of foolish youth

Forever knows you better than I
Again
and expectations know me better than you
One last Jaded cigarette for now
this time
Refraining from looking for the next boy.