I’m a 30 year old White non racist male, with some of my closest friends being Black.
I’m a 30 year old White non racist male, with some of my closest friends being Black. With that being said
by Jenny Zhang
your grey t shirt bothers me
your green mules bother me
your white linen pants bother me
your heidi braids bother me
your good face which would make an equally good leg bothers me
your pierced ears and the crusty blood stain of not wearing 14 karat gold bothers me
your very good posture bothers me
your knowing what to say in difficult situations bothers me
your teeny tiny voice that makes mothers out of sisters bothers me
that I want to mother you very well is something
is it though
is it that your swept untiled floor bothers me?
your folding chairs neatly lined in ten rows by ten rows by ten rows by ten rows bothers me
your naked ambition so fleshy and dead and nutty bothers me
your mini bangs bother me
your plastic plants smelling like plastic flowers smelling like plastic oranges smelling like dead hair smelling like plastic leaves smelling like late Spring when it no longer enables me to feel so much bothers me
could you tap your freaking fingers on my freaking leg some more
when someone says goo, I perk up! and listen!
the passing thru of my baby dreams in print
unless the Vietnamese dispute yellow rain journalists won’t get involved
unless a Harvard scientist says so no one has said it
I know a Harvard scientist
he farted in the pitch dark and we smelled it for days
his best joke is the one about the stuff around a pussy
he carries his own in a shopping bag
he once crossed the street for a hoodie
“so much piping” I said
“so much piping” I said
“so much piping” I said
these holding places
these great moments
what if it’s all placeholders what if they do not name the thing itself
what if anyone can help it
and still
I cannot help it
your champion shoes bother me
your double eyelid from birth bothers me
your diatribe against surgery bothers me
your hatred of fake tits bothers me
your hatred of real tits bothers me
your fingernails all filed down and elegant bother me
your warbly bird voice that will one day carry me to the Baltic Sea if I wanted to be carried if I wanted to see the Baltic Sea if I wanted to be capable of pity the sorrow of being born lucky if I wanted to fart well on the illuminated texts of my oppressors if I wanted to have European distinctions if I wanted to live that deeply if I wanted to be around good breath if I am carried to the Baltic Sea if I finally bathe in the Baltic Sea if I finally see the Baltic Sea and you call out to me in yr trillsong and I don’t have in me to let it be carried out by the sea winds and I suddenly remember how tenderly your voice bothers me
the good air bothers me
the ring finger so ordered and so adventurous bothers me
Baudelaire struck dead by a little lady!
like so what
like whatever
anyway like
just die
at the appropriate moment
my fingernails collapse so dead and so bright
why should anyone name what might be true
I got two names and was born in one place
I don’t bother with so much
as things happen I decide
okay I can
or okay I can not
Jenny Zhang is the author of Dear Jenny, We Are All Find and Hags. She writes for teen girls at Rookie & occasionally tweets @jennybagel.