Don't Think

Why question

what feels right?

My heart

seems to accept

even as

My head

rationalizes.

Or does

My head

realize

the sanity of it

While

My heart

rejects the Black

and White

with no Rosy

in-between?

Red

certainly exists.

I think it colours

and clouds all around it.

So viscous

So opaque

that I do not move

do not think

only feel.

I cling

Viciously

to the familiarity

it offers

and that familiarity

breeds comfort.

Still

that cannot be

the complete equation

to my devotion.

There is an answer

Yes

Imbedded deeply

in recesses

I won't revisit.

I cannot

Will not

put voice

or logic to it.

Do not ask

I cannot answer.

I would rather

just be.

Take It To The Next Level

Ok, so I've been taking salsa lessons, as you all know (I seem to talk about it a lot, yeah, sorry).

I have been learning at the intermediate level for this past half year, and now I (think) I am ready for a change. A step up, perhaps.

I'm still a little intimidated with the idea of moving up to the advanced class. I know I shouldn't be-- the reason I had stuck with these particular instructors, and this particular group was because they are just great, so wonderful, helpful and fun.

I will be fine, the beginning is always awkward, the perfectionist and closet overachiever in me will fret that everyone else is making me look like a neophyte-- but that will pass soon enough. I'll catch up, quick-like, and be glad I made the decision to be brave and just get to it.

That doesn't make me any less intimidated, though.

So I've been mulling over my options. The instructors just introduced two new early bird specials for lessons next month: thirty-five dollars for any four lessons that month (maybe I can do a sampler?), and one-hundred dollars gets you unlimited access to lessons. Unlimited. Did you hear me the last time? Let me say it again: UNLIMITED. That one word sounded so sweet and tempting to me. I want it! I want to do as many lessons as humanly possible. Can I though? Is that pushing it? Fitting in one lesson a week between school and life is already kind of nuts. Hmmm...

There is also the possibility of semi-private lessons. Upside: more individual attention and fine- tuning to my technique. Downside: too pricey for the amount of time offered.

Any suggestions out there? The hundred dollar deal is sounding prettier by the moment, but someone might just pop an idea on me that I hadn't considered, something brilliant.

Oh-- my instructor told me last night that I "danced beautifully." Is that a sign? To do what-- go ahead and take the darn advanced classes? Or practice, practice, practice...?

I think she was just trying to bolster my spirits and be kind. Sigh.

The Rules Changed Up On Me...

...I was just not aware. I don't know where I went when "they" decided to update, I must have been doing something so involved that the whole romance-dating game turned and stood on its head.

Now, here's the thing-- parts of me are very much for the equality of the sexes (heck, all of me is), but in matters of the heart, I remain stubbornly old-fashioned.

Let me clarify why I cling to the old-school ways before folks start going up in arms: I don't think that men should do all the bending over backwards while the ladies sit back and expect to be wooed, because it is "meant to be that way." I just truly believe the equilibrium is restored when men take that extra step to be central in a woman's life.

We women (on the most) are creatures who carefully deliberate on any actions we take. Nothing (important) that we decide in our life is thought up on a whim. So when we take our own steps forward to enter into a relationship (or even begin dating), we've already invested a bit of emotion and time into it.

At least I thought that's how it goes.

For all I know, women may have "evolved"(?) to be equal opportunity pursuers. How does that work? I am truly baffled. I still want to know that a person I am in a relationship with is putting in thought, effort and heart, too.

Hey, I'm willing to leap into the 21st century and compromise. Fifty-fifty is a good start.

Thinking Ahead (Planning Ahead)

I desperately create
a less beautiful bond

rushing, rushing
frantic

for fear that loneliness
will crash the barrier
and engulf me.

Don't fret, my heart
I will not let go
as between the cracks
in our impenetrable grasp
I give up the part of us that
would have deceived.
I leaked it out
through our entwined fingers
along with my solitude.

Bereft, I crave you
as you stand
at your distance
meshing our hearts
seamlessly; willing them
unconsciously to beat in sync.

All the while
I fashion the reality where
the rest of me will take place.

Upgrade?

Just a bit of nonsense to alleviate a nasty case of restlessness. A muse (the muse!) decided to make a surprise appearance, and of course that turned me inside-out-topsy-turvy. Oh, what delicious hell we create for ourselves, eh?

The glass beads looked nice
Until I saw the crystals.
The beads now seemed cheap.

The crystals enticed.
Then in the display, diamonds.
It went beyond love.

How could I forget?
In your absence I believed
that less was enough.

SmellTasteTouchAdore.

I imagine the scent in that crease
where your collar meets your bone meets
your throat-- a swelling spice that disregards
your luminous beauty.
I revel in it on me, around me
within me, as my mouth blossoms to
the hollow where shell meets knob meets
smooth, fair column and cool, quivering sinew;
flesh. My tongue unfurls into the fine curve in praise
of your comeliness-- to dip into the essence
of almonds and verbena and crisp ocean-blue linen
the exact hue of your eyes that meet my eyes
as we welcome and spend our body's fury.

Con Canela

You
the last thought
to caress
at my mind
before I surrender to
the embrace of slumber.

I don't wait
for you with longing
just a sort of
impatience
that's bred by your
sudden, easy
familiarity. You can
become addicting, but I'd like
to insist you're not.

I think
I might simply find
rare comfort in your
eye-pleasing visage.