By jill (jills@wam.umd.edu)
Date: 14 February 1999

maybe baby

it's just one of those things...
where i would love to be in his room again. right now.
i would love to feel his warmth and strength and smile on me.
and i would kiss him this time, i would.
anything to make him kiss me back. 
to be his first in a long time. to stake my claim. 
to have something near and dear and solid and true and honest. 
something tangible, someone who counts. 
someone i can do my homework with, and remember anniversaries and spend holidays with. 
the things i scorn the most, i am just afraid of. that giving in to people. 
but here perhaps, it's not giving in, but giving and getting back.
perhaps this is growing up. looking at things through the rose-tinted glasses.
i don't need the upper hand anymore.
maybe i can relax.
year have passed- if i can downsize all i had to experience
then this one can work.
he smiles a funny smile, the wrinkle in his eyes tells me he's a good boy.
(bad boys don't smile)
maybe i should give in to the good boys. maybe then it's not giving in. 
maybe then it's called being happy and not knowing what that feels like. 
maybe i can write a good poem, maybe, maybe. 
maybe the pill will come in handy.
maybe i don't have to have a long line of has-beens with bad habits and no educations. 
maybe then work will come easy and i will find out what i really want to do with myself. 
maybe journalism isn't for me. 
and then when i stop rethinking all my life decisions, 
i will remember why i am questioning things in the first place.  
maybe, baby, maybe i will make some room for you.