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grab the other’s neck 2010

Janet Kuypers
(poetry converted to prose)

    I don’t know where to start... I don’t know where all these feelings come from. I don’t know how to stop them. These feelings seem to come rushing up to me and I don’t seem to have any control over them. And I hate myself for this. I’m not supposed to be having these urges. And I hate myself for thinking that you may want me too.
    You know, I don’t know much of anything about you, and I guess you don’t know much about me. But I like what I know, because in some respects you seem like me. Yes, I like what I know: that you work too much, you have too much drive. You have a wild side... and you do your best to keep your wild side in check. I still want to be able to straddle you, take off your glasses, mess up your hair so you get strands falling around your eye, touching your cheek — and touching you (to remind you of me). And I want to grab the hair at the back of your head, cock your head back just so I can see your mouth starting to open (God, I want to see that... it would make me know I’m right and it makes me know that you want me too). I’d let your hair go. You would stare at me, and give me a look I just can’t explain, can’t argue with, and have to submit to.
    And when I want this I would wonder: who would grab the other’s neck for the kiss?
    I still don’t know who would make that move (or who could make that move). So I’m begging you to start this cycle. I’m pleading you, I don’t want to be the only one with these fantasies. Tell these stories to me. Tell me you’ve thought these things too. Tell me you know that we’re both stuck (because you know there’s nothing we can do — And I know this too). But I’d like to hear you say it; to validate my fantasies, in a way, because I’d love to hear you talk that way to me. I’m a sucker for that, you know.
    But tell me I’m not alone in this. So I’m begging you — I’m pleading you — tell me I’m not insane for thinking about you. Tell me you have these fantasies too.

Chicago poet Janet Kuypers
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