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Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Talking mess

Sometimes you have to pump yourself up when you're feeling a bit miffed, upset or discouraged.  It's moments like these that make me say that my mom is the best roommate to have.  She might fuss and deliver things with brutal honesty but she can get the silly started too and turn a fit of pique or sadness into a parade of ridiculously overblown egotistical madness.  She'll teach you how to laugh to keep from crying.

We get to 'talkin' shit". 
No whining about what's out of place.
About the emotional rancidness wafting up in your face.
Talkin' mess. 
In your best dress,
Jewelry, makeup and hair
Made all the way up
Every brushstroke in line with the design of a mood you do not have. 
Parade around in skyscraper heels, jingling jewelry, and a strut to crush any obstacle.

Toss your hair, roll your eyes
And to that man who called you an uppity bitch, "Ya damn right, I am"
Sitting around with rollers,
Mud on our faces, naps spilling out from under our shower caps
But we sit like exotic birds preening and proud.
We say, "Girl, look at you!  You think you somebody!"  and the other responds, "Ya damn right, I am!"  

All day, everyday
Darting through the hall, gathering our crafts, chirruping at each other,
"Phenomenal woman!" and "She walks in beauty!"
Talkin' shit we don't see or hear, but
We speak it as truth,
We draw it in like sunlight
Gather splendor from word and deed
Prop each other up and flourish the plumes of our efforts 
Like birds gossiping in the trees as they build their nests of glitter, thread and dust.
Just talkin' shit.
Cause nobody else will.

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