The “M” Word

She sits down to make a list
of everything she wants. Normally,
they are long lists. They consist of all
manner of ridiculous ramblings,
a tall order of
impossible things
(no one could possibly be Blue Marvel
and Anti-Man both bundled in a body
that is like Matt Damon’s).
And so, the page is stark!
White!
Blue lines marched crosswise,
empty save for one item,
unflappable, unyielding.
This is the deal-breaker,
the one thing absolute:
Mutuality.
That “m” word,
like “motherfucker,”
like “mature,”
like grow up and out and into
something other than
self-pity mutuality—
so that she never has to ask,
“Are you in the fucking pool, or
are you out? Are you dipping your pinkie
toe in the shallows? Are you diving in
to the deep end with your
water wings?
Where
the hell
are YOU
in comparison to where
I am?”

Orig. 10.07.11