Voodoo Doll
“I always thought you hated me” he said with a chuckle,
leaned on the table and studied the amber in his glass.
“I figured you went home at night and stuck pins into voodoo dolls
of all the boys like me who had pissed you off that day.”
I laughed, shook my head, tried to think of a joke
but his words were a body blow,
sent me stumbling towards my corner.
sent me stumbling towards my corner.
“Why… would you think that?” I parried.
He grinned, “Oh man, you were fierce!”
Still reeling, I tried to explain,
blurted out what I'm sure he never wanted to know-
I wasn't fierce- I was terrified!
By age 13 I wore my own suit of armor:
baggy clothes, books for a shield,
and a haughty, disdainful expression,
and a haughty, disdainful expression,
my only defenses against the whispers and looks,
the hard, shoving shoulders and mocking laughter.
I offered Cliff Notes on how it felt to be me back then,
tried to erase that image he conjured- his own black magic-
of my teen-aged self, alone in my attic bedroom,
malevolent, superior, casting spiteful curses.
malevolent, superior, casting spiteful curses.
Like any child who is different,
I wanted desperately for people to like me,
I wanted desperately for people to like me,
pretended desperately that I didn’t give a damn if those idiots did or not,
since I was sure they never would anyway.
A bristling porcupine trundling past the gauntlet of teen-aged coyotes,
there was no venom in the spines I wore.
A bristling porcupine trundling past the gauntlet of teen-aged coyotes,
there was no venom in the spines I wore.
Wounded, I snarled from fear,
unaware how many of my wounds were self-inflicted.
And now here we sat, talking about the "good old days"
which were probably short on "good" for a lot of us, come to think of it,
but in our youth we so seldom see the battles others are fighting,
intent as we are on protecting our own front lines.
which were probably short on "good" for a lot of us, come to think of it,
but in our youth we so seldom see the battles others are fighting,
intent as we are on protecting our own front lines.
Still, I would have described us as “friendly acquaintances” back then
until, my face growing hot with a shame 30 years delayed,
I heard him say over a shared appetizer
that I probably never had a date in high school because I was like a dark witch
who sat in my fortress,
happily sticking pins into little rag dolls.
who sat in my fortress,
happily sticking pins into little rag dolls.
“I always thought you hated me” he said
and I wanted to weep, to tell him how sorry I am,
Because the one I hated was myself.
Tracy Meisky is a poet, writer, singer, songwriter and all-around boat rocker from way back. Feel free to look around, but if you break it, you bought it.