TO THE BOY IN THE WALMART WAITING ROOM

To the boy in the Walmart waiting room,

I love you. I love you like a teenage girl in heat.

You are the boy band poster plastered on walls

and doors and ceilings, holding my infatuation

like I want to lock you up in a cage.

I study your every move, watch as you maneuver

the cart with your blurry fingers, twisting it

one-hundred and eighty degrees before sliding it

into the corral. You walked in from the outside,

so you must've found it there, abandoned,

waiting for someone to run it over. I've gathered

that you're the best kind of samaritan, the beautiful kind.

I vaguely remember your face; only the outline of my

roundish perception sticks. Throughout my quest for

bottled water, I thought of you and only you and

maybe some breakfast food.

In the back, by the refrigerated things, next to a basket of

eighty-eight cent spices, I was convinced that we were

nothing less than soul mates. The clear image of your

hint of a smile melted me like butter, bubbling over with

girlish emotions and heart-shaped emojis. Your existence

clings to my short-term memory bank and I can only hope

I'll remember your face until our next encounter, in line,

aisle twelve, where I'll be checking you out. 

HANSEL: AN ODE TO MY BROTHER

once upon a time, there was a baby

and her name was gretal. she stole the spotlight of a young

boy, hansel, but he didn't mind. he liked her.

she had chubby thighs and meaty flesh

and gobbled his attention right up.

for a quarter of her life, they lived in ignorance,

unbeknownst to the closing of their happily ever after.

1.

it started with the woodcutter's wife.

i like to call her mom. you just don't like her.

she sent our lives into a spiraling plot twist,

where we plunged into a place we can't backspace out of.

she said, give me your hand as if it could save you from the

hellhole she still calls wonderland.

2.

i am still trying to find the breadcrumbs you've left me.

i cannot find my way back to your approval

the taste of it still lingers, echoing reverberating ringing

calling out to me, asking me if i remember you.

do i remember you? yeah. how could i not?

3.

it was an oh-so confectionate

slightly affectionate

adventure that was supposed to last for more than a summer.

this was supposed to be the foundation of a forever bond

that i craved oh-so much, but instead it crackled

and crumbled, caving where claustrophobia

almost locked me in. and i'm starting to think you've had

the key all along.

4.

the only thing that stands between us is a silence

so thick an axe can't penetrate.

4.

i was wrong. you are the one trapped beneath

piles of straw, sticks, and bricks. confined to patriarchal

expectations, trying to break free, slip through cell bars

of golden weaves so you can drag me out with you.

my hero.

5.

i'm sorry. please: don't shut me out.

every story ends with a happily ever after.

this is the exception.

the end. 

UNVELVETEEN: AN ODE TO MY STUFFED BUNNY

p.

at first glance

she is just a toy

worn from hours of play

worn from days of the past, tired from stress of the present, weary of the future

i.

she was born the color of my childhood

a ballet pink

vibrant

yet calm

her round tummy the color of coffee creamer and french vanilla ice cream

she smelled of that new bunny scent

the good kind that smelled like birthdays

the ones who gathered around her

were hues of sun, the sky, the mountains

but she was the color where sun meets sky meets mountain

she tasted like honeydew and cantaloupe

like springtime when the snow fell

she was my plus one when overnight stays were called for

my partner in crime in the backseat of an old pickup truck

she was the intersection of sweet sunshiney days and droopy afternoons where the rain pounds on the roof like

little pig little pig let me in

she was alive

she was mine

and i was hers

ii.

as the earth danced around the sun, we aged

i grew taller, she grew smaller

no longer plump and stuffed with cotton tufts

her crown jewel, her flower, began to wilt

like the melting ice cream

that could not be refrozen

because it wouldn't be the same

and it wasn't

still, she smelled slightly muskier

but i thought it was because she skipped the deodorant

her skin grew matted and lost its shine

but still she sparkled

for years i shielded her from the horror that was

the washing machine

but one day

she came out smelling like lilacs

and looking like

a perm gone wrong

for months i combed her

bathed her

tried to save her

but i never realized that it was i who was draining

the life from her

a loose string where her supposed belly button would be

i hadn't the heart to cut it

for that would mean cutting her

and she was me

and i would never inflict harm upon myself

iii.

i have now reached the terrible twos

two digits, that is

and i have abandoned her

for things unseen

things that can only be felt by the heart

i left her to fend for herself

at the foot of my bed

where dust bunnies linger

and bedbugs squirm

when i look at her

i notice the fur in her eyes

the red ringing her pupils

like she is evil but i know she is not

because within she is still soft and cuddly

at a glance she is cute

the more you look, the less desirable she seems

then she looks like the object of the devil

but on the inside

she is pure

e.

oh how i'd love to return

but

gone are days of bright imagination

gone are the days of innocence

gone is her existence