Preferrable

Preferences have a way

of being adopted early enough

                          to seem like family.

In second grade, during a spelling bee

contest, it came down to two

     individuals in the classroom: me,

               because obviously I'd be

awesome at spelling things,

and this lovely Russian American

girl with brunette hair,

a disarming smile, smooth voice,

and sharp wit that quite easily

spelled the word "equestrian".

At that age, I was aware

of a couple things: one,

how baffled I was that I

couldn't spell the word "equestrian",

and two, how Alex, let's call her Alex,

was absolutely mesmerizing

for the rest of the school year.

It would have been for the rest

of my young life but unfortunately,

                                     I moved.

The rest of elementary school life

was spent in public education

and as you may guess, being

                     the token Asian nerd,

my grades were pretty good.

Except, you know, not good enough

                                      to be first in class.

That lovely distinction was reserved

for a certain bespectacled Latina

named Gem, with jet-black hair

that bobbed around her

neck and shoulders,

             a soldier armed with literature

to keep back any childish advances.

When we both entered middle school

and shared the same PE class

(thank God!),

a classmate thought it wise

                      to open wide

his suspicion that I harbored

an adoration for Miss First-in-Class.

I vehemently denied it, red-handed

        but desperate to wash

       the evidence off me, my sweat

a fountain of empty bullet casings.

                               But we moved. Again.

In fact, I changed schools so often

at this point, there wasn't so much

a floor to stand on as there was

a constantly shifting, rickety

boat to keep me afloat,

forcing me to solely focus

on my grades as my attempts

at friendship (never mind romance)

continually failed.

It didn't stop me from drowning.

At church, I was the nerdy kid

     who couldn't associate with

the rest of the kids my age

'cause they all lived in the bubble

of the same private school while I

was left outside, looking on.

And it was there I met a pastor's

daughter - eyes hiding behind 

framed glasses, yet brightly

shining through, reserved

yet sharp-tongued
(as I soon found out).

I was gone - I floundered

in infatuation, then selfish, unrequited

love 'til I left to go halfway around

the world for college.

Even after I finally confessed

behind the safety of a computer screen,

accepting that it would never happen,

that I'd move on, it would only

keep going downhill from there.

I think we get the pattern now.

This preference has been hammered

into me, a piece of hot iron

that let sparks fly and die

       as soon as it gets quiet.

             I've come to find

that as soon as I'm in the midst

of coming to terms with my attraction

to an intelligent young lady

who's frankly better than me

in almost all apparent aspects,

I'll be pulled frantically, facing

elsewhere, placed in another space altogether.

                      Should I stay too long,

as soon as I realize

there are feelings in play,

I pull away, sure that this

is how it's supposed to be.

          Preference is family now.

The rate at which this occurs

                is exponentially getting

              shorter and shorter.

At the rate we're going,

the only way to keep me

from growing distant, colder,

is to convince me, somehow,

          to stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been quite a long time since I've last posted on here. A little self-indulgence in this poem. Hope you enjoy it.

Cheers!