her complexion is pale with malnutrition,
cheeks and skin painted back to health with a deft hand

perfectly sooted lashes frame deadened eyes

and she pays good money, to ink up the flesh
she just sold to you

Commercial Lust...

Me want the pretty pretties...

http://ifitshipitshere.blogspot.com/2009/07/artist-decorated-brain-buckets-raise.html

I use my bike as my primary mode of transportation. Problem is, I HATE wearing a helmet. I do it. I do it the way that I quit smoking, despite not wanting to. With a helmet like these I may change my tune.

barefoot

In my fancy shoes I tower over his modest height, bringing me from above average to amazon.

"You are not the kind of girl who needs to wear heels"

I slip one off and sink down 4 inches.

"Better?"

"Yep"

"Now all I need is to be pregnant and in the kitchen"

He raises his eyebrows

"You know that saying right?"

"Yeah, I do, I'm just not hungry right now"

hope

will you be..
..the leaf caught
...eyelash blown
....penny tossed
will you be the wish that comes true?

Things I love about New York

An ongoing list...

1) I am 3 blocks away from the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.
2) Bookstores are open till midnight.
3) I can buy a meal (of varying healthfulness) for less than $5.00
4) The huge range of people, allowing for the most horrid and the most beautiful.
5) My students, because they have no idea that they are living in New York City.
6) I am a five-minute walk from a sex store.
7) I can buy the best of anything. Most importantly I can find the best fresh eggs, the best organic frozen food, the best lemon meringue pie, and a wide variety of killer cupcakes.
8) This is where most of my friends live.
9) Riverside park. A statue of Eleanor Roosevelt greets you as you walk in. There is the river if you bear West and swing sets if you know where to look.
10) Central park, each gate is named something different (the children's gate, the engineer's gate, and my favorite the stranger's gate). If you choose the less-beaten path you can convince yourself you're in the woods somewhere far away from all things urban.
11) I don't have to drive to work. In fact, I really don't have to drive anywhere.
12) All the beautiful people in their beautiful clothes.
13) Seeing young aspiring actors perform Shakespeare on a subway train, and break dancers narrowly avoid poles as they somersault down that same train car.
14) One word... non-smoking.
15) My bike has turned this big city into a small town.
16) Locking eyes with a stranger and sharing some moment, enabled by the sheer density of people and the lack of cars.
17) The memories of my father woven through my neighborhood.
18) Novelty is so close. It's just outside my comfort zone, just a subway stop further away than I'm planning to go.
19) This city is made for walking.

good things come to those who wait

She is at about rib height, 5 years old, and bouncing next to me as I stand at my desk.

She points to my chest, and asks.

"What are those?"

"The flowers on my dress, or" -I gesture towards my chest- "these?"

"Those!"

"Um, they are part of my body"

"What are they? Why don't I have those? Why are they so big?

"They are breasts, and you'll have them when you grow up"

"Why don't I have them now? It's not fair!"

Final Destination

"I was at the bar with my friends and he came by. He stays 15 minutes and leaves. I was a stop-by... I thought I was the final destination"

My roommate continues to tell me about her night. I can't stop thinking about how awesome the phrase she just came up with is.

"We'd texted about this, talked about it earlier today, he said he was finally so excited to hang out. And then he just... leaves!"

She was a stop-by, not the final destination. Just what we need, another way to be blown off.

Health Class

I'm climbing up the stairs at work when some fifth graders pass me on their way down moaning a chorus of complaints.

"Eww!"
"Gross!"
"Ugh, I feel sick"

It doesn't sound serious, but still I feel the need to ask..

"Girls, what's wrong?"

They answer me all at once

"UGH! We just had Health class"
"From the book"
"It was awful"

They keep going downstairs, whining and clutching their stomachs. I stop laughing to call them back. At the bottom of the stairs, they turn to me

"And the worst of it is,"

I pause and lower my voice to an ominous whisper

"It's gonna happen to you"

statistics

I am talking to this guy, we've yet to meet in person but the emails have been a fun distraction. He disappears for a few days, then reappears with this email.

"I'm used to dating women in the top 10%. Do you think you fall into that category?"

My jaw hits my chest, I sputter out a shocked laugh, and wonder whether he deserves a response. I type...

"I have no idea how to respond to that. "

Some part of me hopes that he will find a way to justify what he has said. "God, I realize how crazy and egotistical that sounds, I've just had some bad experiences..." or "Whoops, sorry about that I was smoking crack".

He responds with...

a picture of his ex-girlfriend.

riding

I thread through traffic. Weaving past cars stalled by red lights, I keep the periphery of my vision open to pedestrians. Forever calculating the distance between myself and them. I hold my breath as little unguarded me slides through the colossal, bone-crunching, semi-trucks. Breathing with relief that my clenched fists weren't crushed between the bike's wide handlebars and their doors. Ah traffic. One of the partners in this dance. Is it a dance? A race? An all out war? It has the fluidity of a dance, the feeling of a race, and the body count of a war.

I could say I ride because it's convenient. Or because it's cheap. Some guess that I ride for the exercise, for stony calves and taught thighs. But really, I do it for this. For that rush of power and control I get when navigating my way from here to there. The giddy high of escaping the perils of New York streets in one piece. The purity of riding cleanses me. There is only so much room for my bull shit on a one-speed. Problems inside my head can't take the concentration I need for the road.

Sometimes I succumb to my desire for passive transportation. I am lured away from the pitted, crowded road by the promise of a few minutes to read, and the chance to let myself be taken instead of powering through. The truth of public transportation is always better than the fantasy. In real life there is rarely a cute guy on the subway (without a wedding ring). I'll give in to an ipod instead of using the time to read, and those five blocks between work and the bus stop feel ten times harder than any bike ride. Given the alternative is it any wonder that I choose the freedom of riding?

I never thought to own a bike before. I bought it because it was on sale and it's pink. It's not the most practical choice but it makes me laugh. I am amused by it's cartoon proportions and color, by it's complete and total disregard for what a bike is supposed to look like. I've become numb to the comments, both positive and negative. It's pink and garish, and sometimes I wonder if that's what saves me as I brave traffic.

I can depend on my bike. It waits outside the school doors, bearing the indignities of stillness. It's wrestled into a small elevator at least twice a day, twisting in ways that rival any contortionist. My bike carries my bags without complaint, no word of their heft or number. It accepts the scratches and lost screws of city life, bounces over potholes and skids through gravel. And through it all, all it asks is that I ride.