3/17/2006
Pulling Secrets Out of My Socks
04.26.01
11.24.03
[ ]
“We don’t have a boob for this poem yet.”
Solidify the vague self-consciousness,
self-rightousness of poems and you can
fill any vaccuum.
When I take over the world no one will be allowed to cry in public. The world is not your support group. “Go ahead, discuss please.”
The tranquilizer wears off and I start to get itchy, twitchy. This is the last long class like this. Pebbles under my skin. “Who is the one that went in for triple by-pass?”
I’m 6, it’s summer camp, day-camp, at the JCC, Dayton, Ohio. The little kids have pre-school in the regular pre-school rooms. Also swimming, holding beads knotted along a rope, each assigned a different color—how retarded did we look—unable to walk in a single short line unassisted. The elastic is always pulling out of my socks. I want to go home. I want to go home please. My jaw aches with spurts of wisdom teeth. Pleasesomebody come and take me home. I’ll be good.
Shane said, tell me something about your carnal preferences, something I don’t already know. I tried to tell him about my bad-girl thing, wanting to get dressed up in school-girl outfit and go out for a day to the mall or movie or amusement park and just be really bratty and bad. And Shane said—that doesn’t count, I knew that already. But this was the secret I’d been saving for him, this was the secret I hadn’t told anyone else, that no one knew, not my master, not his mistress, not Alexandra, not my best friend—this secret was mine and I was offering it to him red-faced in the pillows and hoping he wouldn’t think I was too weird. And he just said yeah, I knew that already, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. I wanted to know how he knew my secret, and he said it was the same way I knew he was kinky, and a virgin. But I didn’t know he was into watersports specifically, what right did he have to know this about me? So tellme another, he said. I told him about Robin, about Sassi – not just the basic ‘I was in a cult’ stuff, but what I did, what it involved, some of it anyways. Because the same way I don’t think they would ever have guessed about my bratty side, I don’t think he would have understood how deeply submissive I can be. And I tried to tell him, but I think it was only rituals, to him. Things I did to please Robin because I like authority. Not the whole of it, not the way I obeyed because I enjoyed it, because I was compelled to, not by threat of violence or indifference but because the only thing I like better than being bad is being good. And I was very, very good. I was late once. ¶ 3:28 AM
11.24.03
[ ]
“We don’t have a boob for this poem yet.”
Solidify the vague self-consciousness,
self-rightousness of poems and you can
fill any vaccuum.
When I take over the world no one will be allowed to cry in public. The world is not your support group. “Go ahead, discuss please.”
The tranquilizer wears off and I start to get itchy, twitchy. This is the last long class like this. Pebbles under my skin. “Who is the one that went in for triple by-pass?”
I’m 6, it’s summer camp, day-camp, at the JCC, Dayton, Ohio. The little kids have pre-school in the regular pre-school rooms. Also swimming, holding beads knotted along a rope, each assigned a different color—how retarded did we look—unable to walk in a single short line unassisted. The elastic is always pulling out of my socks. I want to go home. I want to go home please. My jaw aches with spurts of wisdom teeth. Pleasesomebody come and take me home. I’ll be good.
Shane said, tell me something about your carnal preferences, something I don’t already know. I tried to tell him about my bad-girl thing, wanting to get dressed up in school-girl outfit and go out for a day to the mall or movie or amusement park and just be really bratty and bad. And Shane said—that doesn’t count, I knew that already. But this was the secret I’d been saving for him, this was the secret I hadn’t told anyone else, that no one knew, not my master, not his mistress, not Alexandra, not my best friend—this secret was mine and I was offering it to him red-faced in the pillows and hoping he wouldn’t think I was too weird. And he just said yeah, I knew that already, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. I wanted to know how he knew my secret, and he said it was the same way I knew he was kinky, and a virgin. But I didn’t know he was into watersports specifically, what right did he have to know this about me? So tellme another, he said. I told him about Robin, about Sassi – not just the basic ‘I was in a cult’ stuff, but what I did, what it involved, some of it anyways. Because the same way I don’t think they would ever have guessed about my bratty side, I don’t think he would have understood how deeply submissive I can be. And I tried to tell him, but I think it was only rituals, to him. Things I did to please Robin because I like authority. Not the whole of it, not the way I obeyed because I enjoyed it, because I was compelled to, not by threat of violence or indifference but because the only thing I like better than being bad is being good. And I was very, very good. I was late once. ¶ 3:28 AM
