Slam: We Could Be
Darling do you remember?
Long nights were wasted in front of a
Blue lit screen while my caffeine addled bones
Danced to a sweet electric shock and your hands kept me from
Jumping out of my skin.
Word. (count)
And a thousand boys with a thousand guitars
Could take me to movies in beat up cars
For one starry night with my starstruck self
Whispering out the lines to The Breakfast Club
While you in front of that blue lit screen solved another problem from psychics
As I fight for my right for a Saturday night
And we get in another pointless fight or flight
Call, response,
beg, plead,
brush across my back with a hand that tries to sooth a caffeinated, self-righteous
fucked up, day dreaming hot mess of a failed writer
An apology scrawled on a dirty napkin substitutes metaphors for substance
And a stitched-up pair of legginged gams itches for a getaway while you make it to the door first
I need someone to help me string my guitar so this dirty napkin dining hall bus stop fist fight
Lit fire can turn into a song I can scream from the top of my lungs
And tell open mic beat boxers and poets that “this is a song about someone I knew a long time ago,”
“I hope they still think of me, and I hope that someday we can be
Happy, yeah just happy, in ourselves and each other.”
You’re obviously floored by this generous display, that I want to be
Together someday….
A THOUSAND boys with a thousand inside jokes could sit in that empty computer lab with me waiting for that moment when the power will surely go out and a hand on my back will stop the shivering, waiting,
annoyance, delirium that comes with a half written paper and a drained battery.
The ghosts of a chain letter dramatized status updated existence slowly fading from the screen
And I choose to lean
Back in my chair and fall to the ground
And later I look in the mirror and see a Bruise that you say is beautiful, almost as unique as my face
Oh, baby I am unique, but with just a trace
Of a lustful, image obsessed hair twirler.
But I think we redeem ourselves because we always follow through
You play guitar and I fight back.
We strutted through those hallowed halls
Of our own personal learning institution
You could learn a lot from a girl like me.