poem

oh hey now, look what the mountains done done, i wrote a poem in like five minutes right after coming in from the outside.  someone in the place next door was playing the blues (on a cd or ipod i believe) and it seeped in through the screen of the window and next thing i knew i was typing up words that rhyme and false rhyme and flow and such.  here's the product:

i recognize on most days i am not what you would call conventional
beautiful as in what you would see on the television or the side of a bus
but instead what you would visualize perhaps behind a book in a library
or on the inside cover of one you very much enjoyed perhaps

it is in those unexpected expected places
that i can be recognized
and my beauty appreciated
(because i have it,
i know i have it,
and you can’t tell me otherwise)

i know i can run three miles up a hill and glisten sweat
and lather on lavender shower gel to smell like flowers
still i would rather roll down a hill and smell like earth
and glisten from the sun on my off-white smile
(that sounds like me)

i know i can wear florescent shorts that show my pockets under and pull my curves
and a sequined shirt with a neck lower than i can bend my back backwards
but i would rather lay on the floor in jeans with a pocket of chocolate bar wrappers
and bend back the spine of a book real low to see the small print in the margins
(that is me, always)

and basically my hair on most days is dancing
some sort of interpretive jazz based on the story
of a girl who was trapped all her life
and then finally set free.

i know these things.
and i recognize them most days
and i enjoy i am me.