I just want to write something beautiful
Give my trembling hands some purpose
I guess what I see
Does not always mean inspiration
What I feel
Does not always find a place on my tongue
It just courses through me
Like a river wild
Like a river free
But there is no freedom in me

(W = Anonymous Elderly Woman With Sudden and Severe Dementia)
---

W:

"I was an evil little girl".
I used to stick my tongue out at little boys. They would say,

"SHE STUCK HER TONGUE OUT AT ME".
Then the teachers would always say,

"Young man, she is a respectable young lady and has done no such thing".
So I'd put my thumb to my nose and make faces as they sat".

"My grandmother always raised us to be "GOOOD" "GOOOD" and I was goood.
It was so boring.
They used to get so frustrated with me".

"I was so proud of my father.
Everywhere he went he had to fix people.
He changed things
nomatter where he'd go. He always said

"I CAN MAKE IT BETTER FOR THEM.
IT CAN BE BETER".
He never loved me. Didn't have time. I should call him.
I want to call my father"


Me:

"Did he ever self-actualize and realize that he was making their lives /his version/ of better? Before he died, did he realize maybe what he thought was better wasn't better for everyone?"


W:

"No.
He was a tsunami that changed everything he touched. We girls
respected him.

Listen to me, hah.
talking about such things, on a toilet.
I have no dignity left.
We have to laugh.
Am I crazy?

Me:

"You're no more crazy than I am.
Who wants to be sane? That's no fun".

W:

"That's right!
If you can't laugh,
you die".

Me:

"Earlier, to describe yourself
as a child, you said
you were "Evil".
Do you beleive that part of the reason you were so "evil"
was because you were beautiful?
And you knew it?".




W:

She paused for a moment and pursed her lips in contemplation.
...

"Yes."

The woman nods a slow turtles nod, with both eyes shut and squinting and a pouted mouth.
Her puckered lips fade into a smile.

"Yes, absolutely It was".

The 352 Blues

this city treats the poor
with swift unkindness,
but if you peel your eyes,
you don't necessarily have to always
sing the ole 352 Bleecker Blues

the eyetalian storekeeper,
gives us morning java,
when we sing for him on the guitar,
The Star-Spangled Banner,
refills, if we add America the Beautiful

they say that heat rises,
but that don't seem true
in our third floor walk up
on rue 352 Bleecker Street,
the cold companion enters
thru the busted stain glass window

no matter, no cares,
we light the fireplace,
with wood and anything that'll burn,
we scavenged from the street,
pallets and newspapers,
rent bills overdue,
yesterday's 352 truths

at two AM, the cops, in their cars
cooping, fast asleep, only just us,
the johns, the ****** and troubadours,
walking the streets looking for
free stuff to burn

pass the hat for tips
next to the arch,
enough for daily bread
but we get our ***** and ****
for free, just for singing the 352 blues

even when down and out
on the village streets,
bleak on Bleecker street,
you gotta sing the 352 blues,
especially when you're
riding high and living cool,
down on easy Bleecker Street
in 1968
~~~~~~~
Before you ask me if this true,
save your breath,
the answer is
Which part?

The trouble I find
Most often with time
Is it keeps on ticking
Tocking it's bite

Taking you out
Without much thought
Through the daily grind
And nightly bumps

All the burning hoops
Time sets on fire
Says it's okay
But we know it's a liar

Never slowing down
Where a man can catch his breath
Till you make your exit
... Stage Left

The trouble I find
Most often with time
Is it keeps on ticking
Tocking it's bite

Like new summer wine
We were green in our time
And the yellow rose
never smelled better

But like the weeds in the road
Armadillos , horned toads
The truth was spelled out in the letter

You know some days are just fine
Others will find that your lying
But most of the time
you're barbed wiring

Well the rains came on down
Washed away most of the town
I found you boarding the bus to Dallas

You said you gave it a go
It's time to go with the flow
Then I watched the bus
dissappear with sadness

Well the high plain's never tame
Life's not long there for the lame
And one can drown in the dust
of your sorrow

You can ride on and mend
But you will never be able
to bend
The land or the will that's known as Texas

So goodbye my dear friend
You can write but I'll never send
I'll be waiting for you
at the nexus

they say that a kiss is a form of surrender
for it is not the same as a wave, a high five, a shake of a hand, nor a hug
it is both a physical and emotional connection
whereas some people do it over a game of spin the bottle, kissing the next person the bottle points to
while others kiss and spare themselves from the alcohol induced intoxication, settling for a whole other level of intoxication brought on by another human being

it is different when you kiss someone for the sake of kissing them
it is almost a language, wherein it translates even some of your deepest thoughts to lower lip nibbles
your needs to the subtle exhales, breathy grunts

it is also awakening, as you come in for the kiss eyes closed but open upon separation to see and be faced with what you were just most vulnerable with
the reality hits you
you were within another's space, clenching on to their clothes as if for salvation, drawing them close as if they were to drift away like jack in the titanic

but then it doesn't take too long for you to go back in and feel that same rush
it is the rush of losing yourself and letting not just your lips but entire body be in the responsibility and confinement of the other
it does not bother you, or scare you, however
you feel almost woozy like experiences with alcohol, when in fact it is all from the kiss
you are more than willing to risk personal sobriety for this form of intoxication, even if it leaves you panting from the exhaustion and adrenaline afterwards

then it's your turn
when the other looks at you and waits
eyes tracing from the surface of hazel straight into the void of your soul
nothing is more audible than their breaths and the beats of their heart
with a voice so weak yet so eager
"just kiss me"
and then, they too, surrender