a golden glow rests on Chelsea for exactly forty seven minutes
my four-and-a-half inch heels pound the pavement on 25th st between 8th and 12th
Femininity is my grand rebellion and I’ll be damned if these four blocks don’t hear about it
Between our interlaced fingers,
I hold a poker chip worth 4,029 pounds of tenderness
it burns a hole in the palm of my hand
and the very minute I try to gamble this poker chip,
You wrap your arms around me and whisper,
”You are beautiful"
…but all I can think about right now is Soul Cycle?
BE STRONGER THAN YOUR EXCUSE!
TURN UP THAT RESISTANCE AS A TESTAMENT TO YOUR PERSISTENCE!!
I never even learned how to ride a real bike
but here I am letting a blue-eyed lil bitch yell at me in the dark
When did Soul Cycle become a Caucasian activity?
“I don’t think you know how beautiful you are.”
Oh, that’s right.
we’re still here
at La Colombe
and I am trying to absorb how beautiful you think I am
You are knocking on my door
but I don’t have any tenderness to spare
I cannot possibly split one plastic poker chip into four parts and only give you a quarter
I don’t know how to distribute tenderness in 1,007-pound increments
My tenderness will come in violent waves and consume you
While you trace the 1,239 curves of my body,
you think you are learning to love me
but how could you love me when I refuse to let you know me?
You keep trying to tell me that I’m beautiful
but so did the 49 lovers that came before you
My knuckles white on the handlebars, I set an intention for romance without intimacy
for 47 minutes, Chelsea is as gold as the arch of my back
and all I really want is for you to drown out sirens and party boats
with the sound of my moans