Sunday, June 10, 2007

The Trouble With Edge Play by Anna Bergman

I really hope the author doesn't mind me totally ripping off her work, but I read this amazing poem in Other Magazine and I had to share it with all those friends of mine out there who either know what she is writing about or who, like me, really wish they did.

The Trouble with Edge Play
is falling off the edge so
I wake up determined
to polish the silver, handwash
my lace things and go
to a twelve step meeting if I can only decide
which one Endorphin Addicts United?
Tranny Chasers Anonymous?
Tapestry of High Stimulus Junkies that want too much
and think what they give up
might get it?

The trouble with edge play being
born with an edge that I can't take off--
and I got a weakness
for the mean ones with rough hands and ripped
hearts and I got a prediliction
to go anywhere that I haven't before
so I wind up shivering just
before dawn on the front steps
of a house there is no way
I would wait for a cab inside-writing 100 times
on that internal chalkboard I will not think with my pussy,
I will not think with my pussy, I will not
wind up as the star of the lesbian remake
of "Looking for Mr. Goodbar" but somehow the gender fucked
fucked with my head, somehow my ability
to be the femme who wants you how you are, makes you
hard and wet, makes the straight guys jealous
somehow that ability
to be the femme you can be act and do
whatever you want with
made me the graduation gift hot wheels
ran into the ground and crashed
by September- and I tell myself the trouble with edge play
is big dogs bite, matches
burn if you play with them
and if you entice people
to act how they want they will
and I get fucked by your friends on a fooz ball table
you're the stud
and I'm the whore not the good kind either
and if I bring oyu hot chocolate in bed wearing
fluffy mules and a teddy
you're gonna think I should
shut up when you tell me to
if I want to see how much of a girl I can be for you
you'll want to seee how much of a dick you can be
for you and

I might haunt shopping malls searching
for do it yourself chastity belt kits
but there's always another
Marlon Brando type
and I've got an appetite
that utterly eclipses my size
The trouble with edge play--

I wake up thinking- take me back to the 50s
no make that 40s, the clothes flatter me more
I'll abide by an arbitrary code of conduct
if other people have to also
I want a scrapbook of corsages
and an acknowledged
double standard I want it above the belt
only like i could convince anyone
that was true

and I start plotting
to carjack a suburban matron
I won't hurt you I just want to trade lives...
I'll take Justin
to clarinet lessons and Ashley
to ballet, she can try to balance of this edge I keep falling off
she can take this sex life that's greatest value comes
from amusing my friends, I'll frost
my hair and go to Pilates after
a triple chai latter at Starbucks I'll be
a housewife for real and promise not to
live out any fantasies with pool boys
and electricians This is the
rock bottom bargaining phase
of a trophy girl gone chipped and dusty Turn down
my thermostat Blunt my edge Make me want
simple Make me want less Make me want
anything other than staying here looking down
where I can't see the end of it wanting to fly.

1 comment:

Maria said...

wow, love it.