Poem About Asperger's -- You Don't See It

Uploaded by ravenswingpoetry on 21.07.2011

You don't see it, but some days I drag moonlit danger behind me like a veil of milky dust
casting itself off of my crown.
I balance armies of fire on the backs of my arms and use them for wings.
I hear the stars rubbing their legs together for the want of music and hanging gold fiddled notes on Venus' earlobes.
They chime, making love in the solar wind.
I strap baselines onto my back;
wrap chain mail angels around my chest;
strap thunderclouds to the soles of my feet;
and I dance.
You wouldn't know it, but I have
a thousand Heavens and just as many Hells burning inside.
You see the computer mind but not the glass shatter heart.
I wonder if I am a transparent kachina in your line of sight, if you can already see how much I burn;
but you always prove me wrong.

You try to unzip me,
and see my eyes fleeing away from you like started ponies.
Do you really know me?
If you did,
you would know
that if I look at you too long,
I might burst.
But you don't know.
And how can I tell you?
I consult the dictionary of human behavior every day.
I had to load it into my brain and make it learn that you open doors with hello
and that you close them
with goodbye. I had to learn
the mechanics of when to smile,
when to laugh.
If I like you, I rip
encyclopedia pages and pictures from off my walls to give to you as gifts.
And if I were to love you,
I might serenade you with music channeled from the stereo
installed into my brain that I first noticed when I was ten.
But small talk
feels like grease on my fingertips.
And some days,
I hear my own voice rendered in Greek and wonder
when I will speak my own tongue again.
So I will speak my own dialect of
encyclopedia notes, photographs,
trivia bank entries,
badly sung covers of the originals,
words shaped like arrows.
There may be no smiles,
no dance of our eyes,
no oil between us to make things easier.
That's not how I work,
and I am not ashamed of this.
And maybe some day,
you will see me dance.