Cheers, In Ukranian

empty-glass

I used to be the siren
The one you stared at
Fuck the preening barbies with the shiny perfect porcelain smiles
I was the real deal
The wild child
I had something crazy or beautiful or exotic in my faraway eyes
You wanted in
You looked at me despite the classic American beauty to your left and right
They weren’t gonna get you off
Not like I was
Because I’m a legend in my own mind
And that’s what separates the women from the ponytail kind

But it’s what I dreamt
It’s what I envisioned
In dreamy boozy evenings
Sent home alone by couplings and departures to families
To my supermarket trips for bananas and sundries
Walking the shock white lit aisles
Suburban myth buying yogurt and cereals
Instead of disappearing into the mist
of orgies and some otherworldly abandons
Maybe sipping whiskey and smoking a lonely (likely stale) cigarette
Trying to write some kind of missive
Trying to touch something
Since no one else would/could

But now I’m softening my rage
Inhabiting this thing in my skin called middle age
Instead of making a late night drunken bacon egg and cheese
I’m a fucking gladiator
Eating some handfuls of popcorn
Drinking water and taking fiber instead of continuing the party
Maybe watch some DVRd TV or an old Tarantino movie
Poor bastard just wants to make good films and stand up once and awhile for something he believes in

We’re all just firing off all cylinders
Until they die off one by one
And sometimes they burn new
When we remember what it was like to
Preen and float and look in every mirror because we felt so fired up
On the fumes of attraction and promotion

But now I sit here with a bunch of ten bananas
And a soon to be bread pudding or stale challah
And my feet hurt from forgetting where I parked
Because filled with wine and whiskey I hurried
Wanting to be a part of the night again
Remembering I was once a wild child
And I wanted to stay her
And forget her
And be someone new in my iron age
You would suddenly look at in a whole new
and fucking mind-blowing way