Letters to Maria Coryaté: Part XVIII. [postmark: July 10th, 2015]


Hi, Maria;

So, um… you, like— uh— haven’t shut me down, Maria-babe— I told you I don’t understand being ignored.  So, I know how easily overwhelmed you become, so I ask myself if you avoid me out of overwhelm of affection, or, out of overwhelm of… something less good for me than that.

So, yo, like— when you’re dating while in intensive therapy sometimes, you gotta ditch on those relationships when the therapy is over.  So, like, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but, you will always associate the pain of intensive therapy with that relationships, and anyone you were with.  So I don’t know…

Anyrate, I haven’t proven anything impressive about yourself for quite some time, so the rest of this letter will be devoted entirely to me proving how much I love your hair.  Perhaps I have yet to convince you of how much I love your hair.

So, I’ve seen some photos of you on facebook looking Amazing with lots of make-up and stuff, and skin-tight pants, and really sexy, glossy, good-hair.  But I didn’t spend that much time looking at them, maybe three times.  I like you with wavy hair.  Wavy, kinky, tangly, poofy– I like it. 

Don’t get me wrong, you look beautiful with straight hair— like a model, astonishing, pristine… gorgeous– you pro’lly get tired of hearing That word from everyone you meet— but still just sorta… like a model.  You have this astoundingly unique beauty over that.  Those are the girls I try for, those unique beauties, more beautiful than models. 

When I knew you, you put on make-up like, once.  And your Hair was just… luscious, flowing, outta control, bodacious, ludicrously lovely– that you is beautiful to extremes scrawny-model-looking-you couldn’t pray for (that’s a major compliment, if you’re wondering).

Don’t ever straighten it, again.  Without your rabidly curly hair in it, Earth is the lesser.





Nuff Whatevah Girls (a song)


I am so done with whatevah girls,

I want one clearly-you woman.

Whatevah am so done with I, girls,

I clearly want you, woman.

Done so, I am girls’ whatevah.

Woman, I want You– clearly.

Iiiiiiieee, with a whatevah am so girl-done.

Woman, you want me? dimly?



more Letters to Maria Coryaté


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