I’m a 30 year old White non racist male, with some of my closest friends being Black.

I’m a 30 year old White non racist male, with some of my closest friends being Black. With that being said

by Jenny Zhang

your grey t shirt bothers me

your green mules bother me

your white linen pants bother me

your heidi braids bother me

your good face which would make an equally good leg bothers me

your pierced ears and the crusty blood stain of not wearing 14 karat gold bothers me

your very good posture bothers me

your knowing what to say in difficult situations bothers me

your teeny tiny voice that makes mothers out of sisters bothers me

that I want to mother you very well is something

is it though

is it that your swept untiled floor bothers me?

your folding chairs neatly lined in ten rows by ten rows by ten rows by ten rows bothers me

your naked ambition so fleshy and dead and nutty bothers me

your mini bangs bother me

your plastic plants smelling like plastic flowers smelling like plastic oranges smelling like dead hair smelling like plastic leaves smelling like late Spring when it no longer enables me to feel so much bothers me

could you tap your freaking fingers on my freaking leg some more

when someone says goo, I perk up! and listen!

the passing thru of my baby dreams in print

unless the Vietnamese dispute yellow rain journalists won’t get involved

unless a Harvard scientist says so no one has said it

I know a Harvard scientist

he farted in the pitch dark and we smelled it for days

his best joke is the one about the stuff around a pussy

he carries his own in a shopping bag

he once crossed the street for a hoodie

“so much piping” I said

“so much piping” I said

“so much piping” I said

these holding places

these great moments

what if it’s all placeholders what if they do not name the thing itself

what if anyone can help it

and still

I cannot help it

your champion shoes bother me

your double eyelid from birth bothers me

your diatribe against surgery bothers me

your hatred of fake tits bothers me

your hatred of real tits bothers me

your fingernails all filed down and elegant bother me

your warbly bird voice that will one day carry me to the Baltic Sea if I wanted to be carried if I wanted to see the Baltic Sea if I wanted to be capable of pity the sorrow of being born lucky if I wanted to fart well on the illuminated texts of my oppressors if I wanted to have European distinctions if I wanted to live that deeply if I wanted to be around good breath if I am carried to the Baltic Sea if I finally bathe in the Baltic Sea if I finally see the Baltic Sea and you call out to me in yr trillsong and I don’t have in me to let it be carried out by the sea winds and I suddenly remember how tenderly your voice bothers me

the good air bothers me

the ring finger so ordered and so adventurous bothers me

Baudelaire struck dead by a little lady!

like so what

like whatever

anyway like

just die

at the appropriate moment

my fingernails collapse so dead and so bright

why should anyone name what might be true

I got two names and was born in one place

I don’t bother with so much

as things happen I decide

okay I can

or okay I can not

Jenny Zhang is the author of Dear Jenny, We Are All Find and Hags. She writes for teen girls at Rookie & occasionally tweets @jennybagel.

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