she listened to the first grade teacher, "fold your arms, stay still, remain like this for hours, concentrate,
don't speak!" russian dictator tossing younglings
in the air, yanking their ears for turning heads
out of alignment as antennas; a soldier child sat through a desperate wish to use the filthy bathroom, stayed like a dog, and peed her pants in quiet
she listened to shock rockers, dragon chasers, outsiders, brave ones, rebels, junglist street kids; the sketchy ones while spun would spin the rolling drums and bass
that left laugh lines around the face and hit the ears dubbing her partially deaf to present day; but that's ok, cassettes and raves were fun
she listened to the dedicated parents, as well as personal conception of success, "work hard and study, drive yourself insane, don't sleep, don't rest, just strive for status, money, fame!" trust me there's no residual blame, they did their best; the more she listened
she became quite good at filling everything with effort,
without accepting gain much
time and again she listened to those certain male friends say ... well ... absolutely nothing that she would dream to hear in her infatuated states; all through
the broken windows, robbed apartments,
punches in the ears, and cells on lockdown, still
she strained to hear; only after she was called
an angel in the prologue to the book that never started, did she finally run away, hurdled the equator
there, was often forced to hear "iai menina,
fala portugues?" before leaving all doubters blown away; she spoke embracing even regional accent, disguising with all that effort, all that pain of feeling as the black sheep that she did at home, even here, a white girl in the nation of blacks and mulattos
she listened to what happened next, this Who or What or When or Where that came quite vividly, as in a surreal dream; she's still in education to explain
this force, but it exists, she soulfully assures you, if you choose to listen; It popped balloons, and sparked the flame, and buzzed through the hard-headed brain, and gave her codes to the video game, and brought
due purpose to her name, and so began the musical
though with somewhat of a delay she learned to listen past discomfort from the judgmental sneers for all her oddly ordinary antics, life in the two extremes,
the honesty of hot-heads, ears of fire, extracting information she computes for her enlightenment;
yes, enlightenment
and now she knows that tuning in is awesome strength, that feminine ease, and let's admit that which so many struggle with; now she will boast that awkward cap to filter out unconscious crap she doesn't need to hear,
the downright stinking vibes behind fake smiles or just in front of angry eyes; though surely relevant
to someone else, she doesn't need self-doubt and stress; God knows those two extremes of love and fear, the weirdness, and the effort helped enough already;
her time to speak is here
