"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Today my favourite purveyor of jeans told me   how the whole

jeanthing really began in L.A.    Then as I made my way to the

door   she told me so much more  all the while playing with her

topknot  hypnotically   Her mother had been sick 10 yrs. before  &

wasn’t like her mother   anymore:


My Dad was her enabler +sometimes she thought there was poison

in the food on our dinner table 


Then at a party on Saturday a new friend said: My father was beaten

viciously by his  & my mother died when I was 10    Almost everyday

he told me I was a worthless loser   Both the jean purveyor (21)  & new

friend (67)   had a rat’s nest of fear+unshed tears about their person


His father a fallen king  & rabid alcoholic beyond saving    Her mother a

pearl  had a relapse 2 yrs. ago   and now  she’s just back in denial


So why do you all persist in sharing your plight   your muss  your shambles?

Though I have spent many years with strangers in rooms   can you not see that

I am dressed for a different kind of success    & my skies are now always so blue?

You can take the therapist out of the room  but you cannot take the room  it’s botch

+it’s doom   out of me




Fall 2014



Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: