lo que yo sé

my eyes, smooth blue and
tranquil on yours,
too Clear for you to see that i am
Lying To You

Stupid
complacently you believe me to be yours but cannot see past
the green glass bubbles of my compliant words
i know each corner of your jealous grasping smallness
but you, too,
are painted
in a thousand untrue colors

i do not want to be
that flesh and bone
for you.
i do not want to be
the flaxen-haired incarnation of all
your pearly white promises,
treading lightly on your miserly dreams,
rag on the floor
at the end of the day.

as you greedily snatch at every smallest gleaming cell
of me
you fumble past your real concern:
a giant narrower, terrifying
and more desperate
i fade back to that place where you said,
one too many times,
“i am not you”

And i keep on moving
the way i know but do not like
to say

10.24.06