By jill (keylime@onebox.com)
Date: 17 September 2000

laundry list

maybe it takes an infectious smile
or an arsenal of quotes from old musty books
or money and a place to spend it
or a case of beer
a nice rack, perhaps?
maybe a talent, like musicianship or the ability to tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue
the ability to converse about anything, anywhere
or the ability to draw people in by ignoring them
an alternative mode of transport?
proximity to one's location probably
an op-ed in the times? or just an idea for one?
speed-reading ability?
hidden but handy domesticity?
meat-eating instincts?
a big stash?
a ridiculous nickname for you and one demanded for me?
a domineering personality?
demanding yet clear orders?
the promise of something better?
the willingness to go all out?
maybe what it takes is a natural glow
and straight teeth.
a carton of reds?
or a high tolerance
and low inhibitions.
or the ability to act like you do not mean as much as you do
since you are so very charming.
maybe that is the secret- good old-fashioned charm
or blue in the blood
or a way to stay away until you're blue in the face
a non-steady job
and a penchant for arguing until you have lost someone else
maybe a cool mother
and a pot head dad.
or the recipe for a good soup,
a prelude to your lovemaking.
or just a good fuck, or lay, "some", whichever you prefer to call it.
maybe a warm body to lie with and lie to
or a sweet face to kiss and touch out of nowhere and not have your hand smacked away
maybe just a good time in a little period of time 
and a wish and a prayer in a bottle
and some good timing for good luck.
or a plan to kidnap you and hold you hostage and you wouldn't miss a thing
a weekend by the lake or a night by the shore
on the sandy floor where there could have been more.
a good ass is always nice, too
as is a neutral wardrobe.
maybe it's that fucking aloofness
that translates into salivatory dreams 
but is really shallow underneath it all.
yes, i am bitter. i do not know why you keep going there.
i would never give you such problems.
i am better at playing hard to get anyway.
hmm. perhaps a lie about her love for the classics and 
a stance that changes like the winds
just as long as you agree. for now.
damn, dear, are you blind?
they are playing a game.
one girl's toy is another's dream.
sad i did not think of this in my playtime.
but onward- since i still haven't gotten it,
what it is you die for.
a less-restless sleeper? 
someone who gives you the bed and takes the floor? 
someone who doesn't fall on the floor?
someone who will share the floor?
maybe a supportive hand over your arm wherever you sling it.
or a mover and a shaker
and interpretive dancer.
someone who can make eggs for your breakfast
and eat them, too.
someone who is comfortable with it all? this mess we're in?
i am proud to say i am getting there.
but you know the sex always moves faster than the rest.
you will see my pleasure before you see me look you in the eye the next morning.
a rumbler, a tumbler. 
charm that takes up a whole room.
whooping hot sirens and round red lights
or your conservative quiet mouse that kept your attention that night at the bar.
can i make you a drink?
i know i am worse than a blind man-
i feel my way out through tangles in bed and defense in day
but i know to ask you for a chance will kill it before it begins.
i am waiting for my time in the sun. i know it is soon.
that pink moon ride in a convertible
girl who can do both and smile all the way through.
a rainmaker and thunderstormer
who can turn it on and off at will
or better yet, one who can't and just
toys with her gift like innocence
and gives it up to you time and time again.
irony
is what you want
i think.
enough to keep from any deficiency.
you want to stay healthy for the person who can
smoke all night and not pass out
who rather wakes you up for some good loving
and makes you smile underneath your yawn.
maybe more vices than you. 
maybe comfort
or style or hands touching
with some rituals for good measure. 
and a place to crash
with a big bed so it all sounds well and good
but to end up entangled
i think you like being stuck.
probably it is just a lust for 
a hand out-thrust
who wants to be held and to fall 
into grace and companionship and smiles with
no scared feelings or closed-in spaces
just meadows and shade
the best of both wor(l)ds
the ability to straddle
and feel complete
without feeling less.

ah, to be lacking and not know where.