by LaTesha Miller

I stare at the catastrophic emptiness of my page
And I try to write on us.
On we.
On our cute,
Humble little thing.
And everything I write.

I say fantastical things.
Like, "My heart lives next door to cupid and he constantly injects me with Love Potion #8.
U know.
`Cuz it's ur favorite number."
And that sounds dumb.
So I trash it.

Then I come up with magical things.
Like, "Each time I look into ur eyez,
The capricious entity that resides in ur soul
Chants into the eardrums of my emotions,
Making them all run wild.
With lust.
Immeasurable affection.
Until ur lips satisfy this trinity of yearning
Simultaneously gratify their immense hunger for your presence."
And that sounds even dumber.
And a bit scary.

So then I try speaking metaphorically.
Like, "You are the mountains and I the stream
As I forge through you,
Around you,
Under you,
I change you.
And you me.
And we create a beautiful, tranquil scene
That is a diminutive reflection of the beauty that is perceived
Deep in the essence of we."
And even that sounds dumb.
And corny.

So, as the day wears on,
I try different things.
Even freak-nasty scenes.

I make up words like "complexify."
And say things like, "The yin and yang of our existence together is so perfectly harmonized,
I doubt it if she's not my soulmate."
Or, "If she isn't betrothed to me,
Destiny and fate have a lot of splainin' to do."

I realize how much I'm complexifying
This simplistic thing.
So I write:

Baby, I need you.
I need you like babies need placenta.
Like theorists need conspiracies.
Fuck it.
Like ice trays need water.
Bcuz I love you.

And you know what?
She loved that last line.

Copyright © 2006. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.

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