women. writers.

Poetry: "chewing the fat" by Linda M. Crate

they like to chew the fat
of life and meat and
but idle conversation never
really set well with
i always wanted to know something
people wouldn't think to ask
like how many rings
were in their 
or did they have universes in their head
like mine?
or if they dreamed in pictures,
and thought in words
the way i do;
or what color their grandmother's eyes
were in a black and white photo
versus the real thing
or their deepest nightmare and brightest dream or
what lyric from what song they felt was written
just for them?
but they always looked at me like i was crazy—
like belle
i always had my nose in a book,
but could manage to walk and read all at once
without falling over;
they found me weird and hard to relate to
i always felt the same
as they kept chewing the same fat on a different day
never too concerned with anything deeper
than the weather.
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