Child's Play

To be mesmerized by the gaze of a man,

to day dream about a first kiss is child’s play.

To pick out color schemes, dresses, cakes, and

flowers for a wedding long before the engagement,

hold hands and steal kisses in a dark theater,

 profess love after a month or two,  receive

teddy bears, chocolates in a heart shaped box,

 long stem roses. Open doors, pulled out chairs,

chivalry for the sake of love, a bogus fantasy

carved into the minds of little girls by Disney

princes. Joanie and Chachi sittin’ in a tree

k-i-s-s-i-n-g. Pillows tucked under shirts, baby

 dolls in plastic cribs. Girl names: Mary, Maggie,

Marley. Boy names: Matthew, Michael, Martin.

One big, happy family, together forever. White

picket fences, a golden retriever, two-door garage,

 a two-story home in the cul-de-sac of modern-day suburbia.

 Grow up, there is only your cramped apartment, your

 three roommates and their on-again-off-again relationships.

 No boyfriend, no fiancé, no husband, no prince charming.

You aren’t Cinderella, beautiful, enchanting, princess bride.

You’re an ugly step-sister, a hopeless maid chasing after dreams,

fairytales, child’s play.  

A Better Life

A Better Life

The hum of my dated laptop

drowns out the chatter of my roommates

in the living room. My face glows with the

light from the screen, my bedroom still.

I read the name on the screen.

Desmond Makoma. Desmond Makoma.

 

“Desmond Makoma likes a picture you

were tagged in.”

 

Click.

His timeline appears, his face

in the left hand corner. He stands

in a grey suit, legs apart, hands clasped together

below his waist, like a night club bouncer.

 

His face is bigger than it was four years ago.

There are more lines now, on his

forehead, around his mouth.

He must have switched to contacts.

Pastor Desmond Makoma. Cousin Desmond.

Traitor.

 

I close my eyes, remembering years of anti-depressants,

counseling, and bloody razors. My fingers trace

the scar on my left arm, my old life.

I open my eyes. Click.

“Desmond Makoma is now blocked from

this page.” This life is better.