TALKING TRASH

Don't write checks with your mouth that your body can't cash

I can hear my mama, now
with this a standard line in the
"i'm-going-out-for-the-night" speech
that meant I was in charge of
my sexual choices and if I didn't 
mean it, I shouldn't tease it out.
"Don't write checks with your mouth
that your body can't cash."

Or this one:
"I can't be in the car with you"
which of course meant
"I'm in that car with you in your head"
and was the quintessential mood killer
I mean "let's get it on" and "me and
mrs. jones" didn't stand a chance
with Bernice as my back-up singer
in my thoughts. 

Stan told me once that I was good
at talking trash. He said I turned
dudes on (really, he said 'dudes')
with my mouth and my bedroom eyes
which, for me, was a high compliment

I mean, who doesn't want "eye power"?
and I had it. So I could talk trash 
without opening my mouth or
hiking my mini skirt. I understood
the power of clothes and eyelashes
I mean, if you're gonna talk trash
you need well-groomed eyelashes

tip 101: don't make promises with your kisses
that your hips don't intend to deliver
ice queen tease... that's what the boys
I hung out with called it. And I paid
attention to the way the guys talked
about the girls I wasn't--I was the
locker room queen, the sister-friend
that heard all the details. And all I wanted
was not to be the subject of the
conversation. Because I was
always in the mix, talking trash.

© Valerie Bridgeman
December 19, 2013