"New York Girl" by Cheryl B.
I'm sad and stunned that my friend Cheryl B. is no longer with us. I hate that I can link to her website but can't give her a hug. She was full of spark and passion and is an example to me of someone who saw how she wanted to change her life, and did it. Here is her poem "New York Girl." If you want to read about the last part of her life, her cancer blog WTF Cancer Diaries is something. She was one of the first people I met in the queer writing scene and we had some crazy times and some fun times and I don't have anything else to say except that I will miss her and her death is so unfair.
She's got the click of fierce heel hitting blacktop
She's got sarcasm dripping from the tip of her tongue
She's got a bra made out of steel and panties made out of licorice
She's got a vibrator in her pocket and she's very elusive to see you
She's got that tri-state area glow and a laugh that comes out of nowhere
She's got a voice like a cannon and lips that unravel like spools of silk
She's got a body that curves like the beauty of the open road
She's got Polaroids of herself floating about this city, wearing
nothing but her pet snake
She's got no problem with that
She's got that edge, you know that edge, she's got that leather cuffs
in the top drawer of her dresser, hot wax dripping onto warm flesh
kind of edge
She's a New York girl with a flask full of courage and determination
cocktail strapped to her left hip bone
She's got important aspects of your psyche drowning in the milky
ocean of her complexion
She's got various parts of your anatomy tied up and quivering
in her fist and you're going to have to play a little game to get them
back.
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