She should have lived a fairy tale
Life, but she grew up being nearly
Perfect in a perfect small Texas town
In the 80s.
Long, blond hair; blue eyes; cute, round
Face with dimples illuminated by a
Shirley Temple smile and a voice as
Mesmerizing as Aphrodite’s’ moans of
She was pure and innocent as a fawn
Before her first stance. She should have
Been the obsession of every man who
Could see beyond his arm length.
But you see, being nearly perfect is not
Not good enough.
What should in the way of her status as
Goddess (and it’s a mystery where she got them) was
when she blossomed into womanhood in junior
High, she developed over-portioned, obtuse, child-bearing hips
And thick, muscular, track-star legs.
She was branded with names such as “Wide Load,”
“Fat Ass,” and “Blue Bell.” She walked down the hall each day
to hear “STEP BACK AND GIVE WIDE LOAD SOME ROOM!!” “HEY
BLUE BELL, WHATCHA DOING IN SCHOOL? AIN’TCHA
SUPPOSE TO BE GRAZING IN THE FIELD WITH THE
REST OF YOUR FAMILY?”
It didn’t get any better in high
School. She tried to stand her ground like
The proud, glorious queen she should
There were too many
Heather Locklear and Daisy Duke clones
To fend off. Their subjects – zombies risen
By the demi-gods from Hollywood – could not be
Turned. She stopped fighting back and
Accepted her fate
And like a flower that suffered
Long through too many cloudy
Days and dark, winter nights; she
That was then.
She went to college. Life outside her hometown
Led to new discoveries. Different faces; different
Races. Different views on what is considered
First were the blacks,
The athletes, and frat brothers became wolf packs roaming the
Campus tundra for fresh meat, and she was the perfect Black man’s
Trophy wife. Marsha Brady with a big ass.
She turned them all down, and for her troubles was called
“Racist bitch,” because they can’t see the difference between
Prejudice and preference. Their female counterparts (white, black and ghetto) were
Just as vicious, with stares that would weaken the mighty
Atlas. Now, she hears something different as she walks
Down the halls. “She thinks she’s cute. With her fat ass.”
It gets worse.
The zombies were sent a new command via movies by
J-Lo, music videos by Mariah Carrey and later Shakra.
Now she is swarmed by the same type of dogs who looked
At her like a leaper’s scab growing up.
All just salivating for the chance to
Fuck her from behind.
Even the boys back home are saying, “Damn, you’ve changed.
It’s something different about you. I mean, WOW!”
Nothing changed!! She’s the same classy young woman who
Reads Katie Chopin and Emily Dickinson, listens to
Natalie Merchant, loves watching black & white film,
And idolizes Johnny Depp from 21 Jumpstreet to now.
And she sits on the same gluteus
maximus that just a few years ago
they found so repulsive.
It should boggle the mind how we treat body parts
And skin tone as though their name brand clothing
That goes in and out of style with the times.
She’s battered, bruised, scarred and confused. She’s
Seen as nothing more than a slab of walking flesh
Regardless on how one views her backside. She didn’t
Have a chance to love herself.
No one told her she could.
That opportunity was
I wish God would one day anoint me as His messenger, and
Bless me with golden shoes with wings so I could fly her
To heaven, because the Earth was never meant for her, but
We squandered our chance to adore her in her time outside her
And before I fly back home, I would tell her, “It was never your fault.”
“It was never your fault.”