conversations with a stupid girl

"i'm giving up
an important part of myself to-day,"

she says
matter-of-factly,
as indicated by
the hyphen
between 'to' and 'day'


i don't bite
at first

but her persistant silence
grows wearisome rather hastily


"and which part is it
this time?"

i ask,
still morning-tired
and preoccupied
by my hair
that never obeys


she tactfully ignores my inference
that "to-day" is just another
in a series of attempts
at self-dismantling:

a handful of 'important parts'
flung away
with the tender attentions
of a spoiled child




"singing,"

she replies,
gauging my face
for a reaction
before drawing another breath
and continuing

"there's a clarity
in everyone else's voice
i just don't hear in mine,"

she says flatly,

"some people
simply aren't meant to sing;


i'm one of them."



(this is the part
where i grab my toothbrush
and stomp out of the bathroom
to brush my teeth
at the kitchen sink)




sometimes
i can't forgive my reflection
for the things she says