I can be the little girl, moving in the mirror.
I can be the tomboy, getting dirty outside.
I can be the baby, protected by fierce others.
I can be the virgin, giving it up to a whore.
I can be the bald-headed anarchist who fucks the police.
I can be the sigh, and the one to just say “no.”
I can be the rock climber setting routes around the world.
I can be the performer, taking center stage.
I can be the Picasso, cutting off my ear.
I can be the sonnet of a time now past.
I can be the words, and I can be the page.
I can be the smooth-skinned pin-up taking space on your wall.
I can be the superficial glance of a passing fancy.
I can be the sex kitten bombshell.
I can be the philosophy major, and the analytical bookworm.
I can be the tomorrow, and I can be the hell.
I can be the Victorian explorer, experiencing dark passions abroad.
I can be the deep bronze of a yearlong southern California tan.
I can be the actor in any reality show.
I can be the fashion icon, the mangy mutt, and the sleek ride.
I can be the commerce, and I can be the sell.
I can be the pro BMX’er, who takes a spill.
I can be the gold medalist to any Olympic judge.
I can be the spoiled brat, spewing saliva and raging her fists.
I can be the gum beneath your shoe.
I can be the glue that holds us together.
I can be the yin to your yang.
I can be the sun radiating warmth and heat.
I can be the grass on a cool, autumn day.
I can be the wind whispering in your ear.
I can be the cold chill shaking its finger in your face.
I can be the tragic victim, I can be the abused child, and I can be the neglected dog.
I can be the promise you make to yourself.
I can be me on any given whim. I can be you without having to be told to.
I can be the everything, with all that I am.
I can be the nothing, with all that I am not.
I can be the one giant beat, I can be the temporary now,
I can be the moment.
I can be the kiss. I can be the “yes” falling from your lips.
I can be
the perfect reflection.
