Skinny, black water moccasin,

I see you

gliding beneath the surface

of shallow waters.

Your back skims the top

then you weave yourself

deeper into the green-brown water.

You weave yourself around legs

of oblivious waders.

You weave yourself around my heart,

which is now both pink and black.

Sometimes you pop your head out of the water.

Sometimes you pop up in the conversations

I have with myself

in my head.

You are a snarky little thing.

And you are clever

and you are angry

for so, so many reasons-

that you are a snake

(as if you had a choice in the matter)

that they think you are ugly

that they think you are dangerous

and  scary and cunning

and gross.

But mostly, you are angry

because they are right.

It is all true.

It is all true

and untrue.

Regardless, you don’t like them anyway.

Fuck them

and their arrogance

and their luck

and their ridiculous preference for shallow water.

And you remind me

that I also don’t like them anyway.

Fuck them.

It is all true and untrue

and you are angry

and I am angry.

You because you are not so awful.

Me because they have no idea how awful I am.

I am angry because

I wish they knew.

I wish they knew that as I am laughing and smiling

and chatting with them,

I chat with you

and mock their stupidity-

those vapid, dull, pretty, perfect shits.

You and I are pretty too

(in our own unconventional sort of ways)

and smart and cunning.

So carry on my somewhat creepy friend.

Swim the shallow waters.

Brush against their ankles.

They have no idea how close they are to you.

How close you are to them.

And I will carry on too-

carry with me my pink and black heart,

a duplicitous thing

talking to them, laughing with you.

They are too cruel to ever understand us.