epilogue

this is the last poem in my manuscript heaventeen, greateen, fineteen: graduation. I've deleted most of the poems from this blog that will be in that book. I hope you enjoy this sample of it. the entire thing will be available to you soon, so stay with me plz. : )

---

I met Kristina
through Cydney and Kiana
I didn't really talk to either one of them
when we went to Keller
(I think Cydney came back
to visit her freshman year
for a Friday Family Fun Night
and we played volleyball
and I tried to flirt with her
and failed
[she doesn't remember this happening]

and

during morning recess
in 7th grade
I noticed that Kiana
had on a t-shirt
dressed with the logo from
the [still perfect] 2004
self-titled blink 182 album
which I loved
and she had a rep
a rep that gave me a 12 yr old boner
and so I was like "hey I love blink 18twooooo"
but she was talking to Gabe
and Gabe was hotter than me
so I failed
[she doesn't remember this happening])
but they knew how hard it could be
in high school, especially the shitshow
that was Morgan Park

so as far as they were concerned
as soon as I walked into those gates
it was all Family.

when Cydney saw me, she was surrounded in friends:
her own ever-orbiting social solar system
she shouted "emanuel!!!!" or "mannyyyy!"
(I can't remember which, either way
to my heart, it sounded like Luke shouting "I'm here to rescue you!" to Leia through a crowd of Girbaulds and 3X tees)

and she broke through the planets and space dust
and hugged me so tightly
an embrace that didn't let go for the next three years
(an embrace I miss a lot./././)
and her planets and space dust all scanned my face
registering it
picking the folder out of the black void fly riddled trash bin labeled FRESHMEN
as she told them how cool I was
and sliding it onto a shelf titled COOL FRESHMEN (...?)

and I think I may have met Kristina
the same day I met Paul and Symone
and the rest of the Blue House gang
Kiana led me around
like I was Buzz Lightyear

and I was dubbed "The Freshie"
and Paul said he just really liked my lips

and indeed later, Paul would feel my lips
(the first time, I didn't want it
and didn't tell him so he could save face
the second time, I did
but didn't tell anyone else so I could save face)

Kiana and Paul broke up (so many gay people in heteroships)
and she started dating Ryan
and Ryan would drive her around a lot
and her crew, and it was one of those situations
where he was kiiind of a huge asshole some times
but he seriously drove us around all the time
so what can you say! you know!

and sometimes it was me and Kristina in the back seat
and she had a rep
a rep that gave me a 14 year old boner

people who hadn't heard me referred to as The Freshie
would always be like "oh I thought you were older than me!"
I don't remember if Kristina was one of those people
but if she was, it would have been double funny

because she always treated me like a kid
no matter how hard I tried to prove to her that I wasn't
I'd try to find a way to make an arousing double entendre about the cinnnamon roll
one of us was tearing up as Ryan blasted
Corrosion of Conformity or something
(if you don't know who CoC are, honestly,
the name says it all)
and I'd, you know, fail

and she'd smile
she'd just always smile
and bat me away like a ball of yarn
and keep smiling

and as the years went on
I'd see her less and less
and maybe she wouldn't be smiling as much (how narratively beneficial)

which is kind of what happened
to a lot of the Blue House kids
(/a lot of the MPHS kids)

I think she did Gallery 37 in the summer
I remember there was a picture of her and Paul
on G37 Cross-Dress Day, his head thrown back his skirt high, his
fishnetted leg wrapped around
her baggy jeans and white tee

the kind of activity my friends who sorta knew Paul
would laugh at because Paul's basic instinct to us
seemed to be to just go over-the-top as fast as possible
it looked like he was moaning in the picture, go figure
and she was smiling, if I remember correctly

the last time I saw Kristina
was at the Last Real GSA meeting
(by that point
they had just devolved into
20 minute semi-structured semi-engaged conversations
ending with the far more important task of kids finding which
member(s) of the same or opposite sex
they wanted to jerk off or eat out in an empty classroom)

but We didn't know it was the last one then.

actually, the Real Last meeting
was when we all came to Mr. Fitz's room
maybe even the very next Wednesday after that
to just end up talking about Kristina's accident

and who was with her in the hospital
and what she said to them
and what they said
and who pushed who
and when she was coming back to school

At the Last Real meeting
I, the President of the GSA, was going on
about the Imus controversy
I think I was pretending to ask questions
but probably just trying find the all ways
to get people to shit on Imus and old white people
when I pointed at them
that made me sound smartest

I really don't think I had seen Kristina in weeks
but she was there a desk from the front
by the wall
by herself

and she said "No"
and I didn't understand
she said she didn't care
whether someone called her a nappy head ho or a bitch or anything

because people were -always- going to say something about what they considered you
but as long as you knew who you were
it wouldn't matter

I...I was the President
and she sonned the shit out of me
and I stammered and choked, still the child

the next time I heard from her
she'd made a facebook note
about how everything was so fucked up
and might never be right

she didn't tag me in it

I commented anyway
wrote that everything is always changing
and life will go on and anything is possible
of becoming better

if not the day before, it was the same week
she threw herself out of the moving car*
and the long process of her death began

two days before my sixteenth birthday
the weeks of rumors and bullshit
(*I honestly still don't really know what
the fuck happened)
turned out to be rumors and bullshit

and during Art, the intercom
said she'd died
and my friends sitting with me
got up and walked out of class

and one of the seniors made fun of them
as I picked up the jackets and things left at the table
and followed after

you could hear the screaming from very far away
in the office in the corner of the building
filled with children
either screaming
or not saying anything at all

We were so happy to be alive
to be together at the funeral
she loved everyone

the dozens of people I don't
see anymore

I forget about it all sometimes
then a facebook note or event
will ask for a moment of silence
on her birth or death day

Dan and I got into a photoshop war
with our myspaces
I would find embarassing things from his xanga
or his ex-girlfriends xanga
and place a giant vagina where his head should be

he would copy and paste some of my poetry from freshman year
next to a picture of black and white Conor Oberst
with a speech bubble going "Wow...that's deep"

I'd make fun of his prepubescent "kissed a boy today. woops!" entry
or list how many times Aubrey's "had sex with dan today" posts
would interchange with
"broke up with dan today" within the course of a month


So when we were all gathered together
and showing everyone how funny the picture of
"me" getting a load shot on me by a room full of guys was

Dan's comment under that one came up, and I backed away from the screen and said "ohh...ohhh shit."

and no one understood

my gigantic superimposed head
was pixels away from Paul's lipsticked lips
and the arms that weren't mine
held up his fishnetted leg
as it wrapped around the body that wasn't mine

I don't think it's really any body's anymore

there's no resolution to be found here

I look at the pictures on the We Love You, Kristina! facebook group
and am at the point now
where I am realizing
that the almonds staring back
are now younger than me
and always will be

they're a kid's.

and that might be why I wrote all of this out
because I tell people that if you just write things out
it can really help you make sense of things

but here, it's just pawing at a glass box
that's shrinking smaller and smaller

there's nothing here anymore but stories

I texted Cydney an hour ago
shortly after I started writing this
it's been a long time

Exhibits

"Exhibit C" and "Exhibit A"
originally produced by Just Blaze


When I was on the train
coming back from Morgan Park High School
my brain was weighed with
guns and chains
not the kind you see on TV
the kinds that come off and out
when fourteen year olds
is getting heated
it's been two weeks and
we ain't got no fucking IDs
lockers or textbooks
announcements on the intercom
like "this kid got this took"
right after school
right outside school
hitting it to the bus stop
looking over shoulders
cops not quite enough protection
even though the motherfucking school's
adjacent to the precinct

and I don't even live on the west side
but I
know them white families
not so subtly disappeared
when my parents and my brother
moved in about a year 'fore I was born
when the coloreds showed up
that's when them colors start showin
till the only white person on my block
was a stubborn middle ager who ain't trust us
with his grandfather's house

who on more than one occassion
came outside to threatened us
with a shotgun

meanwhile the corner stores
got neon LIQUORS popping up
right above Lottery

at a rate equal
to the amount gunshots
bustin off at open gyms

my brother losing friends
tryna find peace in religion
you can diss jehovah's witness
but they might've saved his fucking life

look into his eyes
and tell me that I'm lying

so I'm in a cafe
while this nigga Clinton
got tears welling in his vision

he a goofy
I ain't never take em serious
freshman year he used
say slick shit to my girl
when we was dating
and she a play em off
like homie was just being dopey

and it's cool I'd be joking

but this junior year
he sitting here
talking quiet as I ever heard em

talkin bout them niggas
who just killed his guy Milk
the third time I done seen
children fucking screaming
in the hallways

and he sayin he can't describe
how he feel inside
said "my chest just feel like hollow heat"
but he know he finna ride
on every motherfucker
that he see
mighta had somethin to do with it

so every time that a white kid from my dorm's
going on to me about the difference between
a nigger and nigga

for every time my brother's knee blows out
and he's laid up in the house
cuz he can't afford the hospital

for every time I'm at my desk wit a pen
but its frozen because I can't possibly
think of what to write to Randy

Homesick, First Semester of College. Changing Them to You, in a Dream.

dear friend

I haven't touched anyone since I got here
and I don't mean fucked

I mean

a flurry of handshakes
and two hugs
are the only tallies for my extremeties

and that's why I cried
in your arms
the last night
before I left

because I knew
it'd be the last chance
to wet someone's shoulder
for a very
long
time

maybe if I was really desperate
I would start making myself
throw up when I drink
that'd do it

someone'd hold me
and carry me up
my pain soaking their sleeve
and I'd be able to tell them
I loved them
and mean it!

it'd be just like home
and they'd take me to bed
and I'd say "stay

lay here with me.

let's
see
if we could have
the same dream"

and they would say
"no.
even if we did

they'd be equations
with different solutions"

I'd say
"your face is at the top of my mountain"

and they'd say
"you are a

pretty high summit!
such a polite summit"

I dream like a dog

you dream like a football game
in Best Buy

and you'd say
"you can't even behold my hues

and I'd say "ya
I only see two colors, duh nigga

but I like them shapes mighty much
and I can smell the God on you
all over you"

and you'd say "I earned this God"
and I'd say "I got a big tongue
and I'd love to use it if you'd let me"

and you'd put your hand on the back of my head,

and pet me.

and my mouth would go dry from lolling so much

and you'd say "you should drink some water"

and I'd say "I'm only thirsty for you!"

and it'd be too late in the night for you to think

that was cute

and you'd say "you should really drink some water. so you won't be so hungover in the morning."

and I'd say "I love you"

and you'd say "I know. You've said that a lot."

and you'd leave.

and I'd say "just like home"

and I'd say "I love you"

and mean it

and it wouldn't change anything

and the door wouldn't move

and I'd say

Just Like Home

Hold Down

http://www.zshare.net/audio/673532225f761ffc/

At the end of days
I lay with your hands
in my mind
but not in mine

cant stand this

I thought
I could fuck
your heart
and its rings
into my fingers

I thought
way too much
wanted to dress the cover
not a spineless page

I'm soft
against your back

I'm lost
against your back


I light myself up for you
cant just keep it cool


givin yr heart to wild things
the more you do, the stronger

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rDaLugULcg

so what
they tell me to bury you
stuff you in an envelope

I've been trying to write my rapture
for almost a year now
it's felt like jerking at a lawnmower
the sputtering coughs of the engine
blue balling me
jerking and jerking
until my shoulder dislocates

see? see how funny that is?
remember when I dislocated my shoulder?
do you know why that happened?

and then I'll hold the cord in my teeth
pulling and writhing, waiting for the neck to go next

that's how it always is with these girls
my girls

they told me to bury you
you are making me sick now

but that's how it is

Alex and I sat at a poetry show
crying over the cords around our necks

He and I have promised each other so many times
that we could give our nails the slip

I've got a special metal plate vrrrring behind my eyes

and I am seeing the pattern
that "CRAAAAZY" seems to be the minus to my plus

I give, you take

And when Alex and I were
on the phone the other day
comparing the threads
tightdressing our throats

I said

The worst feeling
is that you have to know
about the choke

I am absolutely sure
that you can tell
when you've slapped me into a tailspin

I'm trying to figure out

how big my slice of your day is
when you've ecclipsed mine
does a crying, chainsmoking Emanuel
ever come up on shuffle

does it ever cloud you, even a little bit
how horrible
how terrible

I'm too scared of death to keep secrets
It's why I write poems so much

It's why I can't pretend
that certain things are not precious to me

and if I could eat potatoes
and be happy
then spuds it would be

but it's only knives that
keep my dick hard
these days

trying to follow the pieces back
to find out where this shit came from

but in the mean time
I am lonely
and I like sharp girls

and you are gutting
ripping through
idling time until your Big Love
can come and satisfy you

until then, I guess
you can unstring me, curious, bored
and peek at the insides of my skin

and blush the color of my blood
covering your cheeks and teeth

treat every piece of my quaking heart
like a sunflower seed

what am I to you

BBB

tired of all these white girls
looking at me like I look at all
the other black boys

seems to me this complex
is psuedo oedipus shit
I constantly reevaluate
but still I can't get rid of it

I make eye contact
with the shorties I pass
inside and out of class

testing my self esteem
stretching to see if
me is as attractive as I think I is

but when I pass niggas
eyes hit the floor
like shit
dont even talk to them

and it is
kinda ridiculous
cauz I just wanna kick it
but I can't bring myself
to strike up conversation

pretentious
kid what you waiting ferr
scared that they gon judge you
like you be be judgin them

everything is a challenge
cant think of nothin to say to him
but in the mean time
you just fine
with them light
boys and girls

dont na'an one of them kiddies care bout you
listen to yr own words

On a moment to moment
I pray that it won't hit
but I still get the feeling of threat
it's emotional physical
grossly cyclical
and I swear I fucking hate it

I love but don't like you
and here I dwell
with people who feeling the inverse
towards me, trust me, their teeth
dwell under the pleasant smiles
and hand-down words

One too many niggers got spit
one too many nerves got hit
but I'm so scared of being alone
I muffle the surge in my bones that says

"You better tell these niggas where you came from
the course of making Harriet run
show them Angela, show them Malcolm,"
instead I show them Carlton

"What you be listenin to Saul for?
What you read James Bald' for?"

Oh, to say you did
when someone ask why you only be w/ white kids
sooth your conscious
boy be honest
if you hate your nest just say the shit
play Are You My Mother with skin
and dont be surprised when you get that SNORT
HA You must be good at sports
You would excell at physical work
I know you aint get your feelings hurt
sike, you know we was joking right?
WRONG
Word to my nigga Demi
I'll be goddamned if I let them send me
off like that
you den lost yr shit
if you think I'm finna get ran like this

I'M MAD INDIGNANT RIGHTEOUS STRENGTHENED
I'M BEGINNING TO TIGHTEN MY FISTS
OPEN MY THROAT, TO LET THEM KNOW THAT THAT IS IT
THEY AINT NEVER DEALT WITH THIS
THAT'S WHY THEY'ON WANNA UNDERSTAND IT
BUT THEY GON GET IT NOW, BOY
nigga calm down you know you ain't gon do shit

why are you so scared of yourself

because I think they are too

+

going to have nails all over my body
clinging to this
clawing against
dug in deep
coursing
pumping
sending
planting

so when I am sucked out

there'll be my name
if not the letters
then the blood of it

I love you so much

that's all I can think
when the empty peeks its head around at night
like "nigga...any time."

casting a light
blazing everything temporary and hollow
like "don't you have enough of that?"

and yeah. I do. so that's why I haven't committed
to this rot in light speed to dirt gross shit.

I just.

I just don't fucking have time for it.

and all I can think

is I love you
and I want to show it to you

that's all I can think.