I wish I could share
this poem with you, though
It comes unequipped
with a manual, so

I’m here to tell you
‘bout my dreams
98th percentile
above the mean

So, you see,
I used to dream
about Segovia
and all her Sister Cities
I BASC’d with the overtures

But,
my specialized academics
had me bite my tongue
so much I needed a dentist

I’m not a speech pathologist
I acknowledge this
confirmation bias
as a school psychologist

Back when me and J.P. Das
shook hands in Edmonton
Before Clementine’s nonverbals
were deafening

My emotions
weren’t disturbed
She WISC’d my cognitive
and said I couldn’t learn

And now I’ve heard that
my vision is impaired
Third eye blind, the dopamines
that we shared, so rare

Auditory hallucinations
were here and there
in the halls of my apartment
left bare…I didn’t care…

‘Cause my time
here was BRIEF
‘Cause executive function
off your grief

Their only consistency
is negativity
The infrequency of
their validity

Attacks my working memory
full of complexity
Leaving me feeling
high and dry with discrepancies

And now you mention me…

Another test kit
I resented
Because KTEA and her brother, WIAT,
believed in eugenics

Who invented these
tools of segregation
that people like me have to
use for elevation, yes

Because more information
adds to stories
C-TONI, my association’s
golden, homie

Ima make money by bundles
that’s my KeyMath
Individualized goals so
you will see that

Do you see that
I’m no dummy
The smell of the bakery
reminds me that I’m hungry

Least restrictive, to be specific
I’d wash your dishes
and blow your kisses
if that meant our fine motor
could get inscriptive

Significant
like your phonemes
I broke down your language
so you would know me

You’re My Starship
Norman Connors, ADHD
Hard to inhibit all
of my day dreams…after all…

After all, my dahlin’…I’m just trying to test your limits…

You lay in a bed
with a woman
who has interest
in you.
You used to allude
to your x-lover
that before you two
were kerosene
the woman mitigated
over your pleasures.

Such incendiary an act
to share with your x-lover
a video,
via socially mediated conditions,
of you and the woman
huddled up
watching a TV show
that your x-lover
once introduced you to
while drawn together
within colder interior designs.

And, oddly enough,
it’s all fine
for, in your mind,
it’s all justified.
The hypocrisy
of jealousy
is For the Tears in your Eyes.

For life has and
always will be
about escaping
the lonely daze
and finding the strength
to push lovers away.

It’s as if this was a common narrative, all along

When in fact this is
indeed, quite an unusual tale

Wouldn't you say?
Would’ you say?