i wish i was a little bit taller. . .

i wish i was 5'8". i have always wanted to be 5'8" tall. i dont know why this particular height has been the "it" height for me but it just is. if i was 5'8" then i could reach the highest shelf in the kitchen (it's just barely out of reach now). if i was 5'8" i could be justified in wanting to date tall men. if i was 5'8", people would say, wow you're tall, and i's smile and say "i'm 5'8". why did i just think of this? i was walking down the hall earlier and i have on these F-A-B-O fabulous shoes my bff got me and they are kind of high and i had this urge to do a cartwheel. it's been a while since i had on shoes this high and i just felt like i was tall enough in these shoes to pull of a cartwheel. only problem is i dont know how to do a cartwheel, i never could do them as a kid, i bet if i had been taller i could have done it. i was in gymnastics and could flip and tumble, i could even do flips on the uneven bars, but i could not do a cartwheel. i was usually one of the shorter kids in school, i wasnt in the bottom row in school pictures, but i was in the second to last row. i didnt really grow till high school and when i got to high school i wore these heeled, kinda platformy shoes to be taller. now dont get me wrong i'm not freakishly short, and really i am on the tall side for my family. but when i got to college i just gave in to comfort and stuck to flatter shoes. my undergrad's dress code i believe mandates the wearing of flip flops, and so i was hooked. so now that i am becoming an adult i know. . .i wasnt ready for it either. . . i have been trying to buy more "grown up" shoes. these shoes often have heels and with the guidance of my bff i am getting there. but just think if i was 5'8" they wouldnt have to be that high because i would already be 5'8"

poem my friend wrote a while ago but is on my mind now.

pieces of your cracked face lie on the floor
of a men's restroom in the middle of nowhere

or just outside her door where he politely dusted
off your shards before he walked in

(and commenced to live without you).

eyes shocked into tear less ness
thinking how cruel that he does not care.
that you feel as dry as erosion
the essential of you sliding away under your skin.

but no matter-- this is not his sin:
lovers before he happened became faceless
you clung to his words but did not pause to hear their de/meaning
(perhaps intoxicated by your own moaning).

and now he has left this void that was not his to fill
and you still feel
his kisses on your hips.

his arrogant self
invades your air
and your days
and your dreams--

dreams are nothing but kissed hips.

not worth waking to
words that do not articulate,
overcrowding your mouth with bitter taste.