loving the aliens…

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Jul 242001
 
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foot to the ground

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Jul 242001
 
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pay the $10 bucks

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Jul 222001
 
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Jul 212001
 

we all know how to sing the blues, we’ve all been on that bus trip. so how come some women have no qualms about buying their fellow sistas another round trip fare? i often wonder how the world would be if cat fights were eliminated, how it’d be if we were all banded and focused on weeding out the bad seeds, started a man-database where glowing reports would give the go-ahead, and put a stop to the huge mistake that sit’s across from you over the dinner plate…

would it stop all the heartaches and late night tears that wet your pillow, cause you to write bad poems and lose 20 lbs or gain 50?

to my sweet sista standing in the wings…who stops the big manhook from ruining my performance, and hands me some kleenex, when the hook looks for someone prettier, taller, thinner, richer…

i’ve got my heavy blanket…and ms. sista living way down south…

crying game

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Jul 212001
 

the hangover is staying at the outskirts of my lobes, it’s the bully at the school yard, bossing little brain cells, stealing the b-ball called logic from them and tossing it over the fence…
those little guys never ignored mr. cuervo with his twangy slang and shiny ass cowboy boots, and never took ms. corona seriously, what with her calm cool collected self in such a gorgeous shaped glass house. what harm could there be?

when would ms. franny sit with a cheshire smile? and with dainty finger gestures, pick up greasy ketchupped fries from beneath chicken parts? she was the bar buddha, laughing at man-attempts to reach inside her sockets, smiling when they staggered over to land flimsy arms around ms. its exotic neck, shaking her head in disbelief when ms. kool flicked them away like annoying pests that congregate around your head when you’re sitting on the summer porch swing…

it was a long time coming said the bed of rigatoni laying in her gastrointestinal tract…it’s a good thing we’re hear to soak up all that mess.
but sooner or later they’d have to travel south on the peristalsis train, not one left to steady her self-conscious steps to the restroom, or the humorous but fruitless attempt to buckle someone else’s seatbelt into the crook of seat cushions…

okay. okay. i was smart enough to fire up the computer, send a drunken email, laugh at another i read. i remembered to take aspirin, i remembered to get to bed. was sweetly and utterly hammered. it’s been awhile. don’t ask how many i put away…enough to put me away for a while, enough to medicate work crap, flush it out of my brain. it was worth every penny. and now off to write a term paper.

*i never staggered once…never hiked up my skirt…