bein' ten


i wake up in the mornin', an i tell 'im i can't . . .
i can't do it with 'im, i say . . .
we can't do it this mornin', i tell 'im,
       because i'm ten.

that's how i feel mornin's, when i wake up frail an' shaky inside,
     like the whole world's made outta rice paper,
           all ready to crumble . . .
that's how i feel mornin's, i tell 'im . . .
       like i'm ten

so the entire bizness of sex, i tell 'im, is not somethin' i can do . . .
it's a shock to my system . . .
     to my bein' ten

meanwhile he's runnin' his hands up an' down,  all over my body,
     like he's tracin' a picture of me with his fingers . . .
tellin' me i'm some kinda sex goddess, like in the movies,
       an' he's in heaven, he says . . .
'cause he ain't never seen nothin' so beautiful as me . . .
      
an' i'm stretchin' out, long and catlike . . .
       the way they do when the're sittin' in your lap,
       an' ya find that spot on their neck,
       and ya rub it just right,
       until their bodies melt into whatever shape
                   ya wanna give 'em

with me, i guess it's the touchin' an' the words, all put together . . .
an' he says,"yeah, keep stretchin' like that . . .just like that "
 
an' i got my head on his chest -- a strong big place,
   just like i knew it would be, when i first met 'im. . .
   he didn't have no shirt on that day,
   an' i thought, 'i just wanna lay my head down on this man's chest
                                           an' rest for awhile' . . .

an' now he's pressin' up against
   me bein small in his arms . . .

an' then it happens -- like somebody switched the channels on the tv,
         an' there's another show goin' on --
my arms are stretched out back over my head, on the bed,
   like i'm chained down,
   only they ain't real chains,
   not the kind ya can see . . .
   but i can't move,
   an' he's on top of me,
   an' i want 'im to ram right through me,
   right through the bed,
   an' down into the ground,
   so's i can't go nowhere . . .
   so's i can't be ten . . .
       or a woman . . .
   so's i can be nothin' . . .
   nothin' with no questions . . .
   'cause i'm tired of questions . . .
   tired of wonderin' whether i'm ten . . .
       or a woman . . .
  
the way i figure it,
   all those years,
   an' all those men,
   shoulda made me a woman by now

an' he says he wants me to be wearin' somethin' next time,
           so's he can rip it off me . . .
an' he wants me chained down for real,
           so's he can do whatever he wants,
           until i'm beggin' for it -- it bein' him

an' i don't wonder about it then,
   'cause i'm bein' rammed into nothin' . . .
       nothin with no questions

i wonder about it later . . .

was i ten, when he did what he did to me back then ?

was i ten ?

or did i cross some kinda line --
go from ten . . .
               to bein a woman . . .

'cause i know there's all kinds o' lines, when you're in that place - -
         bein' body to body close with a person . . .
all kinds o' lines -- 
         ways people got to keep themselves from bein' invaded upon . . .

there's barb-wire lines that cut ya up bad, if ya try to cross 'em . . .
there's 'lectrocuted lines that'll shock ya into wishin' you was some place else . . .
there's wooden fences ya can crawl under, or climb over . . .
there's ditches dug all 'round a thing, and water an' alligators put in there,
                                                             so's ya can't swim across . . .
there's lines with land mines hidden under 'em -- one wrong move an' you're blown to bits . . .
there's ol' property lines datin' back to god knows when, with grass growin' over 'em,
                                                               an' nobody payin' 'em much mind anymore . . .

i figure if  i did cross a line back then --
go from ten . . . 
             to bein' a woman . . .
it wasn't nothin' obvious . . .
maybe somethin' like dreamin' 'bout how there's a fence 'round a field,
             an' then it's gone, an' there's just the field, all wide open . . .

an' now, with him talkin' 'bout nothin' but chains an' tearin' clothes off my back,
   i'm thinkin' maybe i shoulda never mentioned bein' ten . . .
   maybe i shoulda never brought 'er up . . .
'cause i dunno what to do with 'er . . .
an' i sure as hell don't like what he wants to do with 'er - -
with seein' her in me . . .

an' it's one thing, her poppin' up appropriate,
       like bein' wonder-filled at the sight o' things only a ten year ol' can see . . .
but it's quite another, her showin' up in the mornin',
       an' me bein' in bed with a man . . .
'cause me bein' ten . . .
             an' her bein' a woman
             is like two songs playin', at the same time . . .
             two different songs that don't go together,
             an' listenin' to 'em makes your skin crawl . . .
             so ya make up a third song,
             that's louder than the other two,
                   an' covers 'em up . . .

that's about as much sense as i can make out of it all

i guess the heart o' the trouble is not knowin'  . . .
 
me bein' ten . . .
               or a woman . . .
   either one . . .
                     or both . . .
is just somethin'
 i don't know
           too
             much
               about.