Rants on Love

I went to another Brooklyn Poets YAWP last night.  The theme was “rants” (positive or negative).  Remember–said our teacher–rants are not thought out.  They are messy and careless and unafraid to be any of those things.  Hello, Killing Superwoman in the flesh!

And so I ranted.  About my yellow coffee mug (“..would marry it if that sort of thing made any kind of sense”) and my last great date (“…sunk into your chest and we were drinking cheap beer and you had on your fancy shoes…”) and American Apparel (“nerds reclaiming cool or whatever fucking fantasy they are trying to live”) and ATM fees (“I have no money to begin with!”) and stereotyping (“that is how the KKK was formed”) and how much I love my future partner:

To the One

I’ve been telling you that I love you for so long
That the fact I haven’t met you has no bearing on this situation
I love you for listening
For just listening and knowing I have something important to say, even when you have no idea what that is
I love you for knowing that sometimes the things I need to do are more important than yours
Much more.
I love you for the tender way you hold me when I spit on you
I love you for your tenderness.  So much do I love you for your tenderness
I love that we speak in the same silent language–a dialect I thought only I had made up and learned
I love you for being stronger than me
And weaker than me
I love that you notice my outfits and my haircuts but not my pimples or my bitchiness
I love that you are gangster but aren’t too big for a skinny jean
Or a conversation with a khaki pant
I love that you put my mom in her place without her even knowing
And that you protect me when I can’t say no
Which is a more than a lot
I love you
Because you stayed.
I love you

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