I. A Regular Woman

“Click any and all qualities you desire in a mate.”
Hmmm...
I’m a regular woman with regular taste,
in search of a normal, everyday man.
Just your average lady ready for a date,
with a fairly predictable set of demands.
Click. Click. Click...

I want a biracial,
nonsmoking,
bilingual,
semi-vegan locavore,
with impeccable taste in clothes.
Who is outdoorsy,
but also domestic,
a culture vulture,
but unpretentious.
I hope this is someone you know?

He should be spiritual,
but not dogmatic.
A dreamer, yet pragmatic.
Worldly, sophisticated,
with an all-American, can-do attitude.
I don’t expect a miracle,
(I know the Earth is spherical),
all I ask for is an ordinary dude.
Click. Click. Click...

Blonde-haired, nice build, and hazel-eyed.
And when I say blonde, it’s okay if it’s dyed.
And please, no tattoos—alright, one or two.
Piercings? Can I get back to you?
No drugs, no scars, and you must drive a car.
No mommy issues or time in jail.
No kids, weird pets, or mortgage debt.
And yet, say “yes,” and you might be the male!

I’m a regular woman with regular taste.
An everyday lady waiting for a date.
Click. Click.


II. Late Bloomer

Woman seeking...woman...seeking...women.
Woman seeking...
women.
Woman seeking women.
The phrase curls up like a cat and purrs.
A palindrome, almost. So anyway...
But when I say that I’m a woman seeking women,
I don’t mean women, like two dozen,
like I’m starting a harem.
Just one will do!
This is new to me, ladies; please be patient.

Happily married for twenty-three years
to a man I loved, a storybook guy.
Then I land on the far side of forty.
Something has shifted, the angle tilted.
I’m staring at Karyn from work.
Her hair, her eyes. Karyn’s laugh,
her yoga legs, and perfect size.
Karyn from Human Resources.
She glowed from within.

I was always what they call a late bloomer:
Blossoms open as everyone sleeps.
A late bloomer, growing slowly,
deep in the night with the secret I keep.

After work at a bar after drinks,
Karyn kissed me,
wrecked me, trashed me.
It’s like I’m driving along, flowing with traffic,
Karyn leans in and I’m suddenly Sapphic.
(Don’t worry, won’t get graphic.)
I mean there’s a fender bender
regarding gender.
Through smoke, fire, sirens wailing,
only option: Surrender!

So here she comes, girls: the late bloomer.
Takes a little longer, but well worth the wait.
A late bloomer, out of step with the crowd.
But you have to start somewhere, with someone,
start living out loud.


III. Anastasia

This is crazy but I do it—
throw myself out there
to you in the space.
My aspiration is you catch me,
and hold me tight.
My character is not very wide,
but all my girlfriend say,
I have the golden heart.
I enjoy mountain walking, small animals
and sunset just dying.
Maybe you live in city, maybe you live in field;
maybe you are cowboy?
I dream in American like I dream in color.
Here is black and white and gray.
Here is only sleepwalkers.
Maybe you are prince to kiss me awake?

I am good girl, loyal as dog, but beware bite!
Ha ha ha!
And, as you can see, humor.
Laughing is salubrious,
I hope you would say yes,
and we can chuckle together.
I would tell you my life, not a happy life,
but I believe in happy conclusion.
My life I tell you later.
Look at my picture: See I stay busy with dance.
You will not be bored of me; I keep the flame high.
I am almost certified Ph.D. physiotherapy.
Body and age do not matter to me.
I want to find a kind man.

Lies I don’t need, children’s games: stay in nursery,
don’t you think, dear?
I have lots of concern, care, fret in my life, and no soothing.
You are the friend of my future, I believe.
This message is not very large,
and if I have something to say and write,
then I think we should first make a small pace,
which may be followed by fast run.
And we know each other more!


IV. Collateral

I lost my man in a burning land.
They took a wrong turn down a bad road,
front two tires dug into the sand,
something down there had to explode.

Maybe that bomb wasn’t so big,
but we heard the blast in San Antonio.

Two years in the rearview.
After all the medals, letters, cemetery guns,
the grief groups and the TV interviews,
I’m putting away the black.
God help me, I’m folding up the black,
like they folded up the flag,
and handed it to me.

Maybe that bomb wasn’t so big,
but we saw the flash in San Antonio.

I’ve got two kids, growing so fast.
Maybe one of these mornings they won’t even ask:
When is Daddy coming home?

I’m telling you because you have to know:
I’m collateral.
The torn, the deaf, the blind.
Some pieces so small they get left behind.
Collateral, the walking wounded.
We heal up fast, but we never forget.

Maybe that bomb wasn’t so big,
but it ripped through my heart In San Antonio.

They say the war is over.
The armies have gone home.
Cannons still and silent,
treaties signed, caskets closed.
The war inside is never over.
You can keep your peace!
I’m looking for a fighter.
I’m looking for someone to fight for me.


V. Rewind

Divorced at thirty-five, I feel
time is running backwards, world in reverse.
I’m a teen again, green and seventeen again.
Aching for a boy to take me to the prom. Not that I care, not that I care.
Brittle. Jokey. Awkward. Dreamy.
What can I learn from the girl that I was?

Rewind:
Let the years fall away.
Rewind:
Feel the fire in your heart. Rewind:
You were scared but you fought
against the lies you were taught.
Rewind:
From a woman to a girl
in a strangely spinning world.
Rewind.

I did go to the prom with Darren Pulaski,
who was gay—which he noted, when he asked me.
He was a good dancer, he made me look good.
We cleared the floor for several songs,
stole cheap rosé and watched the dawn.
And Darren cried,
which made me cry.

Rewind:
When summer went forever.
Rewind:
When no one understood.
Rewind:
The future was right now,
and we would show you how.

And now the future is thirty-five and divorced.
Clicking strange pictures, being clicked on by strangers.
What would she say, what would the girl say?
When I was seventeen, and stupid, and brilliant, and brave?
Don’t waste a moment,
but don’t chase the moment.
Rewind, but remember:
Only love has power over time.

In Real Life I lyrics Copyright © 2016 by David Cote. Reprinted with permission