"They call me 'hell'
They call me 'Stacey'
They call me 'her'
They call me 'Jane'
That's not my name
That's not my name
That's not my name
That's not my name"

I think about the subjunctive
and wish it wouldn't come up so often.
I wish my life were
a little more indicative.

I'd rather be an 'I did it' kind of girl
than an 'I wish I was doing it' kind of girl.
Alas, I yam what I yam.

"They call me 'quiet'
But I'm a riot
Mary-Jo-Lisa
Always the same
That's not my name
That's not my name
That's not my name
That's not my name"

Maybe I'm not.
Maybe it takes a lot to uncork me,
when I do uncork, 'tis a veritable geyser of champagne.

Maybe.
Terri uncorks me.
But when I "walked into the party"
it wasn't like I was "walking onto a yacht"

Being dark and sultry, or is it sullen,
doesn't help.
My eyes dart, and in shyness look away,
to find a quiet corner,

and if the corner is in the library
with six books by my side,
and six more open on the reading table before me,
it's even better.

Why then, does Terri, who has all the natural
confidence in the world,
whose default expression is a smile, and mine a veil,
love me?

Why did she smile at me
the way she did,
and choose me, and bed me, and, dare I say it, adore me?

And least I sound PATHETIC,
from the instant I saw her, it was her for me. This is mutual.

Opposites attract?

Maybe this explains it.
When we're together, alone, she is quiet,
and I am myself, animated.

Perhaps, just guessing, our public
and private personas
are . . . .

. . . not ingenuous, but not, entirely, genuine,
or, could it be, we are complicated?
That there is more to us than one or two lonely adjectives?

That we are this as well as that?

Maybe Terri likes her quiet side,
and I my animated side, and together, alone, we just . . . are.

And when the give and take of love occurs,
there is champagne enough for all.

Subjectively, wanting for naught.

"Why then this complaining?"

Before I become a blueberry
in the pancake of my own life,
I'd best snap out of it, it is unbecoming to self-indulge to this extent.

I'm only wondering.


~~~


Lyrics from the Ting-Tings, "That's Not My Name"
and Carly Simon, "You're So Vain"

Quote from Rosalia de Castro, "I Was Born at Birth of Blossoms"