Wow-Man

Up, down. Left, right. Front, back. Repeat.

The ping pong ball underneath her scalp echoes as she wonders when this game will find its calm.

In the flow of her circadian rhythms, the whistle blows as her eyelids gain weight circa 1:30 AM
 

But of course, there’s a boy

Who just might be a man by the end of this poem

With cravings insatiable

As his desires don’t run on a clock so her delta waves are as disappointing as the sea without vision

And then, brought to shore is the unsure, the imponderable; who crowned her the Kingless Queen, Virgin Mary, in present day parable

She needs no Angel, no God, to instill faith in her womb, to create something beautiful, no

She’ll conceive her own miracles and they’ll all be mind’s origin, fabricated across her corpus callosum

She needs no referee to regulate life’s rules

No, she holds more stripes of certification etched in the creases of her right palm

She needs no wand, no box, no tricks, no gimmicks

Because she is the magician on her own stage.

 

So she asks very kindly if you would just flip the page

Get past her autobiography

And descend upon her fervor

Map the geography of her mind

The nights will be long and food will be replaced by your favorite pill – adderrall or vyvance

So don’t forget sunrise

Your bloodshot eyes will sting

And as the light fades in the west

You’ll go seeking warmth perched upon your stationary bike

Like you’re,

Making progress, yet

Getting nowhere

In a demanding quest to connect the dots of her thoughts freckle by freckle

You’re almost okay with overtime

Because this game blows your mind – her mind blows your mind

TeVo that shit just so that you can rewind

 

The agility of her abilities is like a quadrilogy orchestrated into a one-woman symphony, rhythmically with every note and every key, except the letter D

And you’ll pick the fruit of the scarlett letter

Because she’s got the keys

In the back of her left pocket, so in your fruitless attempt to make it right

You reach down, a double entendre, to simultaneously unlock the mystery that is she

Because she is akin to 50 shades of vibrance

Pulsating, who unlike Anastasia needs no man to come and save her

No need to kneel on her knees because her retinas are sponges to all the color that she’ll please

She’ll actually have you begging at her femur for just another lick of her humor

So don’t sleep on her tonight because unlike the moon she does not wane

Though oxygen might evade you as your eyes become homes for waterfalls, bringing you closer to childhood handlebars as your stomach tightens and flexes

And just as you reach your apex, she’ll multiply 90 by 2

Not like a calculator though it will be calculated

Effortlessly.

 

A cosmic bubble will radiate from her lips while right above, a muted volcano erupts

Now,

Let’s get philosophical

If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If her tongue doesn’t move fast enough for her notions, does she still orbit the universe?

Long story short: she will over-stimulate the accumbens of your nucleus, leaving your feet so sore you’ll have to purchase padded shoes

She is the underpriced, non-prescription medication,

You inhale her like angeldust, perplexed that you could liken yourself to Einstein over-the-counter

Though you can’t count on finding her because she is over the moon, in another galaxy watching over you

And here, lying next to you,

Ubiquitous.

 

With a glance at your watch, you notice her smile, your favorite curve, and although you’re a slender guy you can’t help but mirror her

Then, the corners of your rigid mouth and 20 toes drag out her front door, across the welcome mat, closer to the grey game you’ve pretended to call home – out of habit

 

And she will roll down his tinted windows

So he can finally feel the wind blow

And as the wind roleplays wheels,

It will escort him to where he should go

Before she asks

“when did ‘he’ become ‘you’?”

 

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