A Prayer from the Socially Disabled

Dear First Date,

You are meeting me now
But you are not really meeting me
You are meeting a version of myself
That I don't show the world on a regular basis

I ask that you be kind
Forgiving
And compassionate
As this is not my natural state

Since I don't do this often
I ask that overlook my fidgets and hair tosses
Nose twitches and stuttering
And don't push me to talk to much about myself

I ask that all conversation be planned in advance
And if something should arise that is controversial
I ask that it is you who avert the conversation quickly
But also gracefully

I ask that you make no comment on the
No doubt hideous skirt that I have chosen to wear
(I looked at it countless time in the mirror before)
It was fine in the privacy of my bathroom

In return for these kindnesses
I will vow to
Return the favor
I won't say anything embarrassing at will or talk about what I ate

I won't ramble on and on about how I hate myself
Even though it's on auto play in my head
I won't comment on how I think your shirt doesn't match your jeans
Or how I think your jeans are not appropriate for this restaurant

I won't say what I'm really thinking
(Get me out of here)
And I won't pull out my crocheting
(Which is what I really want to do to ease my nerves.)

I will be a listening ear
And a shoulder to cry on
And I won't say that I think you are pussy
If you cry on a first date.

I won't be any harder on you than I am on myself.
And I won't ask about your family
Your income
Or your political or religious affiliations.

I will sit calmly (with knees jittery from too much caffeine)
And wait for this
Entire
Horrific experience
To be over

So you can NOT call
Tomorrow.

Thank you for playing this game.

Sincerely,

ME

The Ballad of Lego Man: A Forbidden Love

PART I.

He saw her and knew.

There were no words, as he spoke not at all,

and she, reduced to gestures of hands and fingers

learned to speak with her eyes.

And they were full of a tenderness

so profound

he would have shed plastic tears

had he possessed the capability for emotional expression.

She saw him in a toy store,

a plastic Atlas holding up the Lego World display,

standing alone and strong 

among the cold and indifferent GI Joes and Barbies

who snickered ruthlessly behind stiff paddle hands

attached to bendable limbs.

The feel of her warm hand

in his plastic appendage

sealed their fate.

PART II.

The security guard's brow

lifted with questions

as the bell above the door jingled with her entrance.

Three months,

the same pattern--not a day

missed.

He yearned to speak to her of his dreams

of a life beyond the toy section,

to take her dancing,

to tell her he thought her

beautiful.

She so desired to show him

a world full of movement,

of warmth,

of sunlight after a

world lived under fluorescent bulbs.

And among the overflowing, colorful 

flower-beds of merchandise,

Their love grew.

Until--

That fateful day.

A flurry of hands grasped her arms,

pulled her screaming from his embrace,

Judgmental voices read her rights

as he looked on in horror.

Weeping, she was escorted from his world,

handcuffed and disgraced.

Had anyone looked back, they would have seen

a plastic hand outstretched,

and anguish etched in Lego eyes.

PART III.

She covered her eyes, shutting out

the searing white walls,

the padded corners, blinding lights,

the barren expanse of the room

that echoed the barren void of her heart.

Her mind drifted

to loving black painted eyes,

the solid reassurance of his breast,

the sheltered cage of his extended limbs

and the love she had known there.

A love so pure

it transcended flesh and plastic.

A sudden crash--

Alarms shattered the heavy silence,

drowning out the visceral screams of terror

muffled by the heavy padded door.

She sprang to her bare feet,

as the door blew off its hinges

and he shuffled stiffly in

with arms outstretched.

He lifted her.  And was lifted.

Something close to a heartbeat

thudding in his hollow plastic torso

as everything he'd ever desired or felt

came rushing back

in an instant.

The screams had died away.

The survivors, doctors, nurses, orderlies,

stood slack-jawed in wonder

as he emerged from the hospital room prison 

cradling his beloved.

His eyes spoke volumes--

were we able to understand,

we would have heard:

"Lego Men love, too."

 

 

ABC Poem: A Giraffe, an Elephant, and a Hippo

A giraffe went out one day
Before the skies got gray
Could not see the children
Drive their bikes away
Elephant wanted to be Giraffe's
Friend
Giraffe said to Elephant
Hippo is more like you anyway; Elephant replied:
I don't like Hippo; I want you to stay
Just then Hippo approached Elephant
Kindly, will you tell me why dear Elephant
Love yourself and love me too
Much I see myself in you
Never will I mope about
Other creatures look so stout
Privately, we dance and sing
Quietly, remarks about our weight do sting
Repulsed by other skinny folks, we pachyderms
Stoutly boast
Try being fat and leathery for a day
Usually we are quite gay
Very quickly Elephant realized his mistake
Wondered politely over Hippo's way
Xenophobia: it was in fact his flaw
You are truly beautiful; so am I
Zoos around the world will never be the same

Author's note: An ABC poem is one in which each line of the poem begins with the next chronological letter in the alphabet. Try it. It's much harder than it looks! Taking risks here, people.

The giraffe with poor self-esteem: A Limerick, of sorts

There once was a giraffe named Jack
Who had to hide is desires out back
He went far away
And did not come to play
Until he was painted black

My Feeble Attempt at Cinquain

Demolition
Starting over
Must rebuild soon
Heart-breaking, desperate, lonely, lifeless
Torn

My Turn

They tell me I am a child
That I can't do anything
Well, what do they know?

I stand in front of the giraffe
Sucker in hand--strawberry--my favorite flavor
Hoping to reach as tall
As the animal before me

What do they know?
I learn-ed from Mrs. Peabody at school that giraffes eat leaves
And their height works for them
That gots to count for something

Can I? I can!
Be a zookeeper--a vet?
A poet
A artist--Mrs. P. always says my drawings rock her world --
Teacher
Doctor
Fireman
When I grow up
When I grow up
When I grow up
I hate those words

I can also be a mommy too.
Can I save lives?

This scarf is scratchy.
So is this hood.
Why did sissy make me wear this jacket?

They say "Hush Child."
They say "Go Play."
But it's not about "Hushing" and "Playing"

They know that.
But what they don't know
Is that I know too.

The interview vampire

The interview vampires
Are the voices in my head
That tell me to go away
And go to sleep for a thousand years

They tell me that you will never get a job
That I will never have the experience
Needed to succeed
The interview vampires take over

Mostly at night
Right before I drift off to sleep
They keep me from drifting to sleep
The interview vampires are real

Every twenty-something
Has experience the wrath of
The interview vampires at
Some time or another

The interview vampires don't wear black
They don't suck blood
And they don't have fangs
They are very real, however

In my mind, the interview vampires
Take the form of an older man
Dressed in a three piece suit with tie
He smells of sharp cologne

The interview vampire
Fights a nasty fight
With pictures and words
And profanity

"What makes you feel that you can handle
A room full of pre-pubescent human beings?"
By yourself
Alone

"Why do you think you deserve a benefits package and a retirement plan?"
Two years of national service
Doesn't count
Inside the mind of the interview vampire.

The interview vampire
Will make you believe
That you are fully capable
Of nothing more than losing your mind.

The interview vampire
Will grab hold of your
Sanity
And hang on

For dear life

Ashen

Her face was ashen
Not totally sure
What this word means
Ashen
Yet
Ashen it was
It was as if something
Car crash
Miscarriage
Incorrectly told she had won the lottery
Had directly impacted her
Turns out
She always looked that way
I suppose that is a good reason
To look ashen
Was her face the chicken
Or the egg?