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 Dec 2016 Alexandra C
b e mccomb
no
i do not
have my
driver's license yet

please stop asking
how that's going

please
stop asking

because if you continue
asking i will be forced
to hedge on the truth
that i'm scared

of accidentally crashing
even just getting distracted
annoying other drivers
of not knowing what to do

(of having a panic attack
behind the wheel or losing
control of myself and
intentionally crashing)


that i only feel
safe in a moving
vehicle when my
mom's driving

and that i intend to move
to a city where the bus and
my own two feet take me
wherever i need to go

so please stop
asking me
or else i'll have to
say i'm scared

and i'm also scared
of telling people that.
Copyright 12/2/16 by B. E. McComb
 Dec 2016 Alexandra C
w
23
 Dec 2016 Alexandra C
w
23
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm tired
 Dec 2016 Alexandra C
Sky
If a girl falls in an empty house
with death rolling through her veins,
does she make a sound?
Does anyone hear the last breath,
has anyone seen her frown?
Who saw the pain that hid behind her eyes,
who saw the darkness within?
Is there anyone who knew
that her happiness flew
far away, far away,
so that the gray
took over?
A girl fell in an empty house,
with death rolling through her veins.
She didn't make a sound,
but the impact was profound
Her absence has hit hearts all around.
born 1900
when Austria was still a monarchy
    that did not know
    it was approaching its end

growing up as the daughter
of the mayor of a little district town
    big fish in a small pond
educated accordingly
as a ‘higher daughter’

   be a home decorator
   do needlework
   be a gourmet cook
   play the piano
   be a respectable member
       of the community and the parish

when she turned 18
after the end of world war I
the social order for which she had been prepared
simply disappeared

her father became a disillusioned monarchist
the town’s republicans elected a new mayor

she married a railway engineer
who left her after her daughter
    my mother
was born
she managed to survive world war II
as a single mother

watched her daughter
    fall in love with, at Christmas 1946,
    and marry in April 1947
a guy who had just escaped
from a Soviet POW camp
looked like a walking skeleton
       my father
AND
was the son of a communist
who  had survived  world war I
as a POW in Siberia

strange bedfellows

     they used to play cards together
     once a week
     with great gusto

     class warfare
     morphed into social entertainment

both my parents were working
grandmother  led the household
on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses
     to bring in some money
practically raised me and my brother
cared for us when we were sick
taught me to play the piano

was always afraid we would not get
enough to eat

for a while, as a little child,
I slept in the same room with her
and  learned that she had
a wondrously melodious snore
    going over an octave & some such

when, after grade school,
I had to leave at 5.45 am
to catch the train
    pulled by a sturdy steam engine
that took me to the high school  
    50km down the road
she was concerned when I
   rushing out the door
just grabbed parts of the breakfast
she had so lovingly prepared

when I left home for university
she was not happy
when I went to the USA for a whole year
she was disconsolate

she did enjoy her great-grandkids
when they visited, though

too much distance for too long
from the place of her birth
made her uncomfortable
in her later years
she needed a familiar place
that came with its familiar things
to do and know

she lived to be 87

I saw her last
after a second stroke
had mostly incapacitated her

a tiny woman
curled up
waiting to leave us
for a world that finally might heal
the pain and disappointment
she had so bravely mastered
throughout her life
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