She grabbed the butter knife
With no idea of the man I was
Or whence I came
She grabbed the butter knife

Two strangers with so much in common
Coming from opposite ends of society
Yet somehow drawn together at the middle
I joke
She smirks
"Oh really mr. Tough guy"
"You wanna keep joking"
Her hand reaches to her right
And grabs
A butter knife....

Oh how different we were
If only she had been there when guns were held to my face and stomach
If only she had been there when knives were raised to my throat with intent to harm me
If only she had been there when a lighter version of the cocaine used to keep soldiers fighting in Vietnam kept my 14 year older brother throwing punches at me
If only she had been there when I was held up
The butter knife in her hand weighed less than the brick and chain that I kept under my full size bed as a child
I had knives at ten that posed more of a threat
I had seen guns at 13 that were men's toys
If only she had been there

I knew little of her upbringing
But within context clues I was able to pull together plots
Her defensiveness toward light insults exposes perhaps a sheltered upbringing or interactions within an uppity society that I have often wondered about
Or perhaps she was so protected that her she didn't tolerate playfulness
A previous text of hers referring to stabbing someone as "shank" gave me the inference that the day to day life I had experienced as an adolescent was only seen to her in movies and TV shows
Or so I hypothesized
She was a pretty woman
Earlier discussion revealed that she was the pretty girl
Pretty girls get spoiled and catered to in America
And though she analyzed people for a living her understanding of who I am was, might've only been referenced to in TV shows and text books

My background to her was deciphered by media coverage
As she jokingly grabbed that butter knife I knew that she had no idea what she was doing
And more importantly who she was doing it to
But for the woman who knew much for once she knew very little
And didn't even realize it
Knife in hand, she looked at me
Her eyes rolled slightly and challenged me through her version of feistiness
The uppity version
And before her eyes connected to mine, enchanting as they were
I was already calm

Her eyes tried to reach at the back of my pupils but were unable to phase it's depth
The reflection of her emerald iris brought a smile to my face
I had liked this woman
I had embraced her strength, and courage
She was cute
She was beautiful
As she continued her attempt at intimidation I raised her awareness as to who I am
"You're going to need a lot more than a butter knife"
She smirked at her own ridiculousness
And we laughed


This letter J is provided by: sheryza