I spend a lot of my time thinking about words: their origins and definitions, their usage and confused sense of identity. Words tend to have split personalities. They have subtext and connotation, tenacity or flexibility. They have the ability to change, grow, alter. Sometimes they are born of a generation, sometimes they die, sans funeral, put to rest in old pop culture books or student papers or song hooks. They cut, mend. They tower, babbling and bubbling over with alacrity. The point is, they mean something, and what that something is, we don’t always know.

Plus, sometimes there exist better words for what you want to say. Fierce words. Words with a little stamina. A little, you know, meat. And when you find that perfect word, well, simply, it rocks.

In honor of my love of this diversity in language, I’ve written an on-the-spot poem that began with a delve into the meaning of “OK.” I hope you like it. It’s another one you should try reading out loud, with feeling. 

My Definition of OK, A Poem
written by Alexa L. 

When I say I’m OK,
I think you know what I mean:

that I’m not necessarily OK
in the sense that I feel well enough,
but that I’m oll korrect,
just peachy,
damn, I’m decent.

But wait,
stop for, like, 63 seconds.

It isn’t just all correct
but all right
all good
all there,

like my mind
because I’m still not that old,

like my heart,
because it still
pump pump pumps
like Seabiscuit
(and because it feels cliché to say a racehorse).

I’m definitely in a place where I can say,
“here I am;
I’m sane;
I’m fine.”

good looking,
hot stuff,
fox-like and dangerous
damn, I’m sexy.

I’m here and there
I’m all over
and omnipresent
like symbols, all Jung
my legs, still young

so I walk,
pace myself to the music of the world—
this earth,
this dirt
and step step step

because I’m here,
I’m fine,
and I’m OK, damn it.
I’m OK.

3 thoughts on “A-OK

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