"She is such an excellent student in English,
and I'd ask her teachers why her grades were low
and they'd say she wouldn't turn anything in.  And
it was true, she'd say this isn't ready yet, it's not perfect."
Perfectionism.  That's it.  I don't have it, God knows
but after 500 years of therapy I can look any psychological ailment
in the face...now she's dropped out of college and
he is not happy, my former boss,
"she says it's a 'gap' year" like the British Royal Family takes after
prep school, to be sent to rope cows in the British Empire,
Be an Australian cowboy and post to the trot like a proper Englishman
He's right, it's not a gap year.  
He speaks so quietly, he has judged me so harshly
pathologized me, behaved as if he is perfect and I am nothing
this is quite a large crack in the perfect facade
and I'm still here wondering
so I do what the courageous do and I google perfectionism and
before long I gather details of a childhood spent trying to have accomplishments
so your parents will notice you, a childhood where your feelings aren't important
an emotionally impovershed childhood lacking mirroring, positive mirroring because
the parents were to wrapped up in other things or they didn't really care and suddenly
I understand why this boss of mine would dig into my very soul
because he is so much like my parents
and yet, so afraid, because if I can google this,
then so can he, so why doesn't he when he's the one
with the degree in psychology, so why am I the one
trying to figure out his daughter's problems
and I know the answer
I want to solve mine
Is it the Jew in me?  That kind of willingness to look into that vast
horrid place of self hatred and take a flashlight even and look
at the bloody mess of a psyche and try to attend to the wounds
to heal, the be willing to walk in, squishy entrails cut off
and bloody under my feet, to try to sew them back together
to get the whole system working again.
I want to e-mail her the articles I read about her
I want to heal her, I want him to read this and know
that he is known and he was not such a good father
and she needs help
but no.  it is only me I hope to understand
as I realize I am in the cave, the immensity of my own psyche
trying to understand it, fix it, yet again

Take the back roads to the warehouse yard,
Where all the shits stored.
After a couple of rights, your there.
Some people may call it the epidemy of scum.
I call it paradise.
I walk in smelling rotten wood,
And some fat kids lunch.
Passed the ripped couches,
The 12 year old television,
The pool table that was missing 3-4 balls,
And up to the register.
There was a big man with a tank top,
He took our money,
And gave us our wrist bands.
I took my board and climbed up the first ramp i saw.
Drop in.
I passed the half pipe, the sticker wall,
The fun box, the stairs, the roll in...
I pump up the next ramp.
This side of the park smells like pot.
There are fewer fans,
Its hot...
Everything is moist from the precipitation
My board slides with ease
All the ramps are covered in dust.
Dirt gets on your wheels,
Your hands turn black.
I dropped in again.
The speed cools me down.
I skate till the sun leaves and the owls come out.
The staff starts to bring out lights.
Bands unpack their gear.
The music starts, followed by mosh pits.
And i just keep skating.
I land a trick I've been attempting all day.
I decide to take a break and listen to the show.
They're all scum and today, so am I...

in sixth grade at the
end of the year
boy transferred into the
"smart class".

he sat next to girl
in science and social studies.

later, when girl looked back on
her and boy's first meetings,
she would recall a moment that,
at the time,
seemed passable.

study skills on the first day
of sixth grade,
middle school,
girl was looking around at her
new classmates.

boy was sitting at a desk.
bracelets lined up and down his arms.
girl read them from her seat.

one of them said
'i a band with brit-related stuff for her love of the u.k.
>a skinny black one from boy because he "doesn't like green day."
(but girl sometimes wonders why he would have it if that were so)
>a legit green day one with the uno!dos!tre! logo
>deathly hallows from her friend GaHoolian girl
>KISS hello kitty cross-over
>pink that is inscribed with "flirt" even though girl isn't
>pink that is inscribed with "wipe-out" which is more fitting
>blue from the orthodontist
>string of plastic pearls from a bff
>black leather with a pentagram painted on, made by girl

boy is becoming a different person through his own
bracelets,
he doesn't wear the "i <3 boobies" anymore,
and girl recalls that day in science when another boy cut all of his
"sex-bands" off his skinny wrist,
and she smiles to herself when she also remembers
another girl coming up and offering
the broken bands to her.
"but they're boy's" is her line,
and girl and boy are both blushing.

girl likes seeing how boy has changed
through bracelets,
his now almost bare wrists pale and white,
rivery veins snaking up his arms,
veins that he has
tortured girl with many times.
he no longer has sex-bands or
"rebel" or soda can tops tied together.

just a black one
saying "bite me"
and a watch.

girl doubts anyone else has realised
he even started wearing a watch.

but girl is just a very observant
hopeless romantic,
who wears her heart on her sleeve
and shows her love through
phrases carved into rubber.

On a bitter december night of '11
I stood alone, watching the glow
of christmas fireworks
clutching my phone in my mittens.
"This time in a year, I will be with you"
your message said.
"I will be holding your hand"
"I will plant kisses on your forehead".

The year passed and so came
the even more bitter december night of '12
your hands tightly tucked into your pockets
your face turned away from mine
your body impatiently shivering
lifeless to the weight of my chin on your shoulder.

As we stood silently
I remembered what you had said
this time one year ago
and as I looked up to the sky
the fireworks lit up what I already knew
as their sunset hue reflected the vacancy in your eyes.

Hope
By Shani Jonas


I actually believe that there is hope for this generation
For the boys and girls and adults of this nation
Even with teen pregnancies
And puberty coming too fast
With rapes and murders
And relationships that don't last
With mini thugs and thieves
With judement that's cruel
With abuse and hunger
And no religion in schools
I may be a fool
To think that we can possibly achieve something in this dog eat dog world
But I have a lot of hope
For just a 12 year old girl

I believe that men
Will stop treating women as objects
That they will stop watching her "twerk her stuff"
And really mean their "I love you"
Women will stop getting dragged by society into the black ashes of the souls that used to belong to confident girls
That they will stop being insecure
So they can see the roses among the thorns
And the buds among dry leaves
I wish that parents will stop beating their children
Because is it worth all the pain?
Killing your own flesh and blood?
I know I can't do much
To change all the evil in the world
But there is one thing that both you and I can do to help.
And that is to pray and
Hope
Hope
Hope,
And practice what you preach
And have faith in your children.

I'll spend my entire day thinking of
all the things I could be doing.
I'll spend next year not doing
all the things I said I would.
Instead I'll keep looking into the future
and living in the past.
I say I'll get to it later
And it's sad that no one warned me that
life goes so fast.