Since the day I cut that rope
that was keeping the bomb
from ticking
I became many different things
for different people:
the letter-writing heartbroken girl
in love with the words of an ex-soldier
the older seductress
the detached lover
the destroyer of dreams
and finally
the spontaneous creature
who can’t wait to lose her head
and her underwear
when she truly likes someone
at last
even if she’s only known him
for an hour.
Now some people hate me
some love me
a few despise me
and the last one thinks I’m nuts.
This is the one that hurts.
Still better than being a wife
with a golden retriever
or a baby to feed
but it is with bitterness
that I proclaim these skinless days
over.
Just in time for the Summer
I am going to buy myself
an atmospheric pressure diving suit
to roam the streets of New York in
and scare the tourists.
Eventually it will weigh me down.
Jumping in the Hudson
will feel like something normal
at first
and then it will be strange
and rich
that underwater world
of pearls that were his eyes
and seaweed tangled
in our home from home.
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