Behind the lens
or holding a pen,
my pain disappears,
it seems to end.
The focus required
for both to take flight
robs my illness of power
it seems to take flight.
Such creative endeavors
I forget I’m not
the girl without illness
the girl who’s fraught.
A sick chick no more
as I walk through that door
‘cuz a creative i.d.
has a hold of me.
What do women want
Is oft the cry
Heard on men’s lips
As we are passing by.
But let’s turn the tables
And take a closer look
At men and their behaviors
(God I could write a book!)
The initial encounter
Is always so sweet
Good times and laughs
Occur when we meet
Numbers are exchanged
With promises to call
Hope is held out
Expectation takes a fall
We wait by the phone
(For a little while at least)
Listening for a ring
From the cold, silent beast
Confusion sets in
We had such fun
Doesn’t he want to continue
What previously had begun?
We wonder what’s the scoop
And why he didn’t call
We give up hoping
Disappointment hits us all.
So then we try again
With someone else we meet
Stories are exchanged
But again – defeat
Are men and women
Opposite, yet the same
I’m beginning to wonder
Playing this dating game
Women want companionship
Someone to have some fun
Men I think are “islands”–
Relying on number one.
Or is it that they’re afraid
And don’t know what they need
Men aren’t the only ones
Who hurt and cry and bleed.
So should one give up trying
To find a mate, a friend
It’s not a bad idea
Men only want themselves in the end.
I’ve taken myself off the market
The disappointment’s far too great
To make it worth my while
To attempt another date.
© Kathy D. (written summer of 1989 after a particularly painful series of dates)
That explains everything! (NOT) I’m a lefty in case you haven’t guessed.
Here’s my response to that “study”:
A lefty sits here,
Riddled with fear
Then thinks,
As she inks
Criticism be damned
(I can go on the lam)
No scolding, no sorrow
I’ll be back tomorrow!
