28 July 2008

misti rainwater-lites

monosyllabic “love” letter

Dear You:

The spuds are in. Do not skimp on the salt. I do not need a pat. Not one. Not two. Not three. Four? Hell, no! Five. No. Six. No. Mash for my gums. Spoon white mush to my mouth. Part my lips. Feed me soft and smooth. I vow not to burp but won't vow not to lick the yum and beg for more. What would Jay do? Jay would add too much milk. Jay's mind is on the next pot of soup.

Cake...yes. Three eggs. Not two. I will not beg for crumbs. I want at least half the cake. I like when it sticks in my throat. I like to wash it down with milk. Skim. I like to moo like a cow. That is one way in which I show the world my shine.

I do not cloak my heart in shame. My heart is nude and will sit for a sketch. My heart glows pink as the day it was born. How did I pull that one off? No one knows. God? God, no. I'm strange like Maude. I do not age. I give and give but hide what I keep. This is for me. I like to share.



rose petal portent

Place a rose petal beneath your pillow and dream
of the man you will someday marry. If you live in
Texas and have long black hair and big blue eyes
they won't ask you if you can read or tie your shoes.
If you are a little girl they will ask you if you have a
boyfriend yet. When you play pretend your friend's
mother will chastise you for pretending to be Jesus.
Girls cannot be Jesus. Boys cannot be Jesus. Girls
can be Snow White. Boys can be just about anything
else. You will swim in a mud puddle and your mother
will show you the color and scent of anger when she
puts you in the tub to scrub you pretty again. Don't
make your Barbie doll steal pork chops from the dream
house kitchen. Don't show your naked Barbie doll to
your cousin Shane. Belt whipping. Shame. Dirty dirty girl.
The first time I placed a rose petal underneath my pillow
it worked. He came to me. Not the me I was, the me I
would be when I figured shit out. He was Jewish. Dark
hair. Dark eyes. Killer smile. He had that Scorpio charisma.
He had that Libra charm. He had that Aries attitude. He
had that Gemini wit. He had that Leo style. He was happy
to have you. He was an attorney. You woke up confused.
You were certain you would dream of the youth minister's
son or maybe Ricky Schroeder. In Midland you drove to the
cemetery at night and stole fresh roses from the graves.
You have been cursed ever since.

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