What I Can't Have

Ah, the story of my life:
another unavailable,
attached man
who quotes romantic comedies
at me.

And all this,
just as I'm at the cusp
of realizing that,
while all the work I'm doing
is really helping me heal,
what I really need is love.

I'd reconciled myself
to spending the rest of my life
in celibacy.
My ugly, broken teeth;
my exploded and weakened body;
my traumatized mind:
I'm just too repulsive
for the status quo.

It's an American thing;
Mexican dudes
have no problem
with my body,
but my mind
seems to be
too much for everybody
-- even me.

But, quite by accident,
I stumbled onto a disoriented soul.
I enjoyed this man,
the moment I met him.
I never even considered
a possibility of anything intimate.

But, very recently,
I felt a pang of hope.
And that empty spot of skin
between my shoulders
that my arms can't reach
began craving human touch.

I know
I'll never feel complete
without that.

I also know
that the circumstances
of both our lives
are in total disarray
and radical paradigm shift,
and that any circling
of animals, catching scent,
could be devistating
to one or both of us.

And I know
that any physical contact
-- which I suddenly find myself craving
like an abandoned child --
is now a constant current in me,
every time I even think of him.

I rehearse approaches.
I choreograph encounters.
I imagine bursting bubbles,
pushing envelopes,
pushing buttons.

And I also know
it's not him I'm craving.
It's love.
He's merely
the object of my projections.

I want it all.
I want to get my freak on,
be someone's old lady,
lie safe
in tender arms
and cry myself out.
I want to seduce.
I want to nurture.
I want to overwhelm
both of us
with the power
of sexuality
and the grace
of tenderness.

And I dread the next time I see him,
the next time he writes
to me.
I'm terrified
of my own clumsy,
consuming
need.

never was good at hiding,
and my attempts
are more obvious
than just saying what's on my mind.

And then you write me with that movie quote.

I don't even LIKE Jack Nicholson,
but when he said,
"you
make me
want
to be a better man,"
I broke down and wept.

And risking any approach to this man
is risking more
than I can afford to lose.

I'm accustomed to doing things for
and by myself.
I rarely even get lonely.

But love
is the one place
where,
no matter how well I take care of myself,
I can't do it all.
I'm a human;
we're social animals.

I don't need a man
to repair my car,
pay my bills,
give me direction
or even to love.

But I need someone.

I wonder who
and I wonder if
and I wonder when.