Choice

I polish on the lavender scented body wash,
In the steam filled shower,
With the bright pink netted loofah.
The holes snare on a small barbell through my navel,
Capped by bright blue and purple plastic balls.
The indentation that formed my lifeline's attachment,
Now pierced with my teenage rebelliousness.

I brush through my wet hair,
The comb glides smoothly.
My bare face and jewel-adorned lobes,
Reflect back at me in the mirror.
Three holes, right lobe, four holes, left,
Acquired over the years.
I may choose fancy or simple.
Once again, my choice.

Spoons

I'll be the big spoon,
You can be the little one.
Comparing this to a fat kid and cake
Is like trying to dig out a mountain,
Scoop by scoop,
With the little spoon.
(That's you)
There's a leopard in our room,
Running on the bed.
There's a zebra in our room,
Gone now.
If I could be smart about this,
I should eat you like a praying mantis,
So you would stop clink, clink, clinking my passions
With your spoon, with you.
Cake is good.