The Real Woman

THE REAL WOMAN ( spoken word poetry with music) It is one in the morning and she sits naked hair frizzed, body frail unmasked and unmade she is a mess. Beauty has left the Building The alluring is someone else’s tonight In the mirror a reflection of the real woman lies the real woman that every man asks for but in reality no man wants. Because, they are scared of her repulsed by her and all that she represents they dislike the look of her nappy hair, her hairy legs, her unshaven pits, her saggy tits— scared because she does not resemble the supermodels, the play boy bunnies, the hooter girls, or any male perception of female perfection. In fact she is the opposite of Naomi or Tyra Cindy or Halle or even Lauryn Hill. She is the bottom of the barrel not the cream of the crop or the crème de la crème. Because she is more fragile more simple more flawed more exposed more real than you or I will ever be on the surface. But I only let her out once in a while when no one else can see her And whenever I catch her reflection in a mirror staring back at me I cringe, call her ugly, cover up the mirrors, close my eyes, take a long deep breath, reach for my compact— cover her up, until she is once again every man’s proverbial sexual fantasy.