White Girl Swagg

Whenever I fill out a government official form
I'm always puzzled when I get to the race section
I wasn't aware that I was in any kind of race
and if so, who am I competing against?

Oh, you mean my ethnicity.
but every time I have to check the box that says "white"
I'm tempted to fill in the lines underneath "other"
as a little girl
I never used the white crayon to draw myself
it was more of a pale pink brown tan
swirled with the dark mocha freckles strewn across my skin like haphazard constellations
and deep murky ocean blues where my veins peeked through my translucent forearms

I learned to respond by the name society gave me
"white girl"
and it became
hey white girl, go be a cheerleader
hey white girl, why don't you shop at Abercrombie and Fitch
hey white girl, aren't you in a sorority? oh... well why not?
hey white girl, you're not supposed to dance like that
hey white girl, you're not supposed to spit like that
hey white girl, you're not supposed to have that much soul

I looked up white girl swagger only to get a error code 404
the item you have requested
does not exist

...yet.

Rhythm

I no longer have my rhythm
I broke it down into separate letters that I threaded onto a bracelet
that I meant to keep for myself
along with all the other words that still mean something to me

but I gave it away
to a man in a superhero's costume
I trusted him to know what to do with it

and now
I'm trying to learn how to walk off beat
off the beaten path
my footsteps are searching the forest floor
for a speck of sunlight salvation
that I can tuck between my ribs
and let it become a spark of inspiration
but I have shadows sewn into my skin
a darkness that manifests itself as half moon circles around my eyes
creating bulls eye targets on my face
to let the shafts of sunlight know where my secrets are all hidden

My feet have grown callused from traversing this rough earth
I remember when they used to be smooth
like the webbing between my fingers
the space that hold pens like the stems of roses
patient for the fragrant beauty to unfold itself
but now, my words cannot keep pace with my frantic mind
I've given my rhythm away
and received dragonflies in return
they've climbed the grass stalks twisting through my torso
sometimes, they turn their multi faceted eyes at me
and ask me questions in silence
a language i have never fully understood
i can feel their gossamer wings tickle my skin
whenever I'm pressed against the chest of the boy I gave my rhythm too

I gave my rhythm away
to a man with the ocean eyes and gentle seafoam fingertips
I can hear it when he falls asleep next to me
his arms locked tightly around my back
if I listen close enough
I find that I'm not surrounded by silence I'm unable to translate
but i'm being rocked to sleep by the lullaby
of his steady heartbeat
that keeps pace with mine.

Dance

I want to dance through the streets in full costume
something green and glittery
complete with a big fluffy tutu
so I'd look like the human equivalent of Tinkerbell

all the passerby people would pass by with quizzical glances
but I would just shase past them
with a balonce here and there
I would turn corners by doing tour jettes
and I'd pirouette along the sidewalks
and shenae across crosswalks

I'd move to music only I could hear
if I was allowed to actually live for a living
I would dance through the streets in a green sparkly tutu
and hope that someone would dance with me

Transitions

I stopped writing the way I used to.
when excess thoughts would get bottled up in my head
and manifest themselves in my fingertips

I wonder what changed.
I wonder when this happened.
I feel like I've been sleeping for the past 2 months
and I woke up as someone
I no longer know

so i guess it's a game of creation, now
and I'm supposed to shape myself into the woman I want to be
but I'm not sure how to do that
because I've never been as old
as I am now.