This Shit Is Ripe
Ready to play tag with poems in the night? Open up, I’ve got something nice…
Some part of me lay dormant, it might have been my smile - it took a while to find its teeth, lost in the back of that van where we met - over seafood and smack and weed; you laid me down on a dirty sheet --- I hid that away for so many days, wasn’t gonna let it play out: no neediness. Just propped on a shelf, fine wine or a puppet. I’m Bonnie – you’re Clyde – makin’ out like bandits.
Cixous, what she do?
Only got me confused ---
But damn, she was right on a hot summer night – there’s steam coming out my ears --- no pants can hold me - Ima bad fire. Ima bad cauldron. Go ahead, take a sip - what I be brewing is good for your bones - what I be needing, I left alone. Watch out for me, Medusa’s back - I guess she gets the last laugh ---
Ain’t no knockoff, Baby. This shit is ripe.
And I’m just started yelling.