the one for me: live.
an autobiographical account of my relationships - representing my half of several combined truths. in reciting this poem, it is not my intention to villainize any of my exes. nor myself. these things just happened. besides, to quote the deliciously awesome anne lamott, "if people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better."
The one for me…
The first one was a dealer.
I guess cause Nino Brown was in -
I ain’t pay much attention to what happened at the end
Cause I wanted the things that only money could deliver
So I sold my soul to the lowest bidder
Plus thought nobody would mess with me
As if my name was Keisha from that same city
But the reality is
We had little left to spend
After his brand new rims
And crazy run-ins
With other women
All he left me with was the child that we made
And a permanent scar on the side of my head
Like a tee shirt from a place
You go on vacation
To never forget the consternation
From one of those times
He messed with me.
So then I chose the nice good guy
From a good family
With deep pockets
And even deeper secrets
Like the one about the
Black girl with a babe
Dating their youngest boy
He called me by my middle name -
So they wouldn’t know that she was me
Stuck somewhere in make believe
Pretending that our relationship
Wasn’t built on the bullshit
We told one another
And everyone else.
Next up was the professional black man
Don’t even know how I ended up with him
'Cause "Rachel don’t date them."
But to prove everyone wrong,
I made him Mr. Right
Although I never really loved him
Barely even liked–
‘cept maybe at night.
Well, the ones that he was there.
You see, his flash and his stance
Things that captured my glance
To so many others
I almost forgot who I am.
But when you mix the ego
Into issues with daddy
You might drive yourself damned near batty
Fighting a bunch of other chicks
Battling the same kinda shit
Amounting to absolutely nothing.
So, last time, y’all I chose me a surfer.
Not just for his hot bod,
But because I’d reached a point
In my life
Where I thought I could just
Go with the flow
But what I didn’t take the time to know is
That when waves are plentiful
Surfers tend to seek
The next biggest one
Even while riding
The wave that they’re on…
So this time y’all, I’m holding out for a farmer.
A diligent man, good with his hands
And is patient enough to
Know that love takes time
So we ain’t got to rush
A man who can produce and provide
With not much more than
A coupla seeds and a pinch of fertile ground.
One who knows that
Land with a harsh past
May need a little extra work
But that don’t take away its worth
Because his turf is the earth
And he plays in the dirt
Shares intimate relations
With Mother Nature’s creation
And won’t spread himself thin
Beyond the fields he lives in
you see, a farmer might be seen in a pair of dirty jeans
But it’s his heart that’s clean, y’all…
'cause a farmer ain’t some
Johnny come lately
Fly by night
Unappreciative of what he has
Type of lad
Nah, he’s a stick with it
Cultivate all kinds of 'ish
Outside in the daylight
Sometimes through the night
Whatever he can
Kind of man
His heart’s full of gratitude
His soul’s in control
Commands the utmost respect
For the life he’ll unfold
With this woman awaiting his imminent arrival
Her heart and mind in total alignment
No longer living in that mode sometimes called survival
This time y’all I want what’s mine in
A man of substance who is
Real & Capable
Local & Sustainable
Flexible not breakable
With love that’s unmistakable
He wants to
Grow with me organically.
Support our dreams emphatically.
Hold it down romantically.
And I mean only with me…
Planting in tune with the cycles of the moon
Through those high and low tides
Man, fuck that ride or die
Cause the street dreams and the ones in between
Never gave me the things that I really need
Like stability, humility, complete availability
From the man with some land and a shovel in his hand
The farmer, y’all. That’s the one I want for me.
© 2014 - rachel m. walls