I'm ashamed that I've been so indirect
when it comes to this.
But here I go again, wooshing right by the truth.
I like to play games.
I like to be frantically clandestine,
imagining I'm some turtle-necked, finger-snapping venus fly trap
who speaks only in whispers and never smiles (or God forbid, giggles)
Now I am ashamed.
Ashamed that instead of telling you who I am and who I desire,
I've told you what I've heard people say about me, echos of my past, a reflection of my perpetual present.
Stories of closets and paranoid suburban housewives.
Stories of winks and notes and tangled limbs.
Stories of heart palpitations and laughable accusations.
I never speak with my own voice.
She said, she said, he said, he said.
Well, now I want to look you in the eye and tell you
that even if The Magi appeared before me now and told me that my universal attraction is something false, I would tell them to continue on their way.