A pair of flip flops
are delivered into his lair
also known as my apartment
they have been coated with some dust
from alongside a lake, where wild things roam
then washed in the lake,
just for his enjoyment
and he tears into them, kicking and biting
in the morning, they are presented to me
in a new style: the corrugated look
a bug he's found on the patio and killed
is brought in and he sets it down in the middle of the living room
freshly vacumed rug shows it off well
then back to more stylizing
Last year's Walmart's purple flip flops
are now objects d'art
and now eating the expensive hypo-allergenic food
meant for the old cat, his foster father/mother
who used to chew off his whiskers when he was a kitten
and then, time for nap

I passed six Targets on my way there
a Lake was my goal, the best of the Bay area
I also passed Lawrence Livermore Labs named after one of the fathers
of the bomb
and I drove on, the pool was filling up quick
not with swimmers, but a flea market of vendors
a lady dressed in her own wares, rags sown toegther
So I thought I'd take my chances on the wild waters of Livermore Del Valle
I arrived and offended a ranger when I didn't believe the stuffed cougar
died of natural causes, there are only twelve left in the Bay Area
but that was 2008.  I couldn't take my eyes off it, the fur falling off
it was dead,
The ranger was sure I'd get run over by a boat
I could tell he had me already pegged for dead
So I went North, and walked on the trail and waded in
and it was green and murky just like the last one
and there were fake waves, made by boats going way too fast
and people fishing everywhere
waiting patiently, boxes full of wares
and boats for rent, guys all around
and the sun was going down and a little girl and her mom
fishing practically on the sidewalk, or the lawn
started yelling, something on the other end of the line
and a huge guy helped them pull out the squirming dieing thing
and drop it on the ground, now covered in dirt
And a group of guys with their mouths open wide said
"It's a cat fish.  So much for the boat."
And that was funny I guess, like the Dad who couldn't get the kids
to come out of the lake until he said "we're gong to do the cake"
But I went back to my car feeling sad
for the poor fish, lying there, dead
and I thought, I'll delete that fisherman guy online instead

Only now, with more power
I can own this
I can punish with flirtations that go nowhere
I can needle with demands that he can't meet
I can make him feel like he can do nothing right
Like he is forever a dissapointment and impotent in my eyes
Not always the victim now

It was an innocent question and he looked at me and I could see
his chest heaving up and down, "no, nothing at all.  That's it."
We were alone in a windowless room and he had the key
He could lock it, this older man, my X boss
He looked stiff as a board and standing like he had his hands up
showing he had no evil intentions and
online I flirted with a man his same age and was amazed
when we finally met, at his ****** frenzy
tearing at my clothes, this man who I'd write off as needing
assistance from modern science, grabbing for my body parts
in desperation and power, yes, masculine energy and all the strength
and desire of testosterone reaching, holding, biting
and I thought of my X boss, and that strange moment
when we were alone together and I realized
looking back, how he wanted to lock that door and demand of me
the same things
Always after that, re-assuring me, when we had to meet that
there would be a female present
like a male OB-GYN doing an exam has a nurse in the room

"I learned in from Oprah.  Every year you put your clothes facing toward you
in your closet, and you put them back facing away from you.
and by the end of the year, you know which clothes you don't wear
and you can throw them away."
I listened to this announcement from my authoritative boss
with a look of horror and disbelief
I must have looked like he just said:
"Every day I forget how to tie my shoes,
so I look on YouTube for a tutorial."
I know now, that look I gave, must have said everything
and I said softly, "You mean, you don't know?"
And he must have felt like such a dork in my eyes
and what man wants to feel like an attractive woman
thinks he's a dork
He must have shriveled inside, first with self hatred
and then furious, tumultuous anger, a tornado of
recrimination and fury, carrying houses and cows and trucks in its wake,
and aimed directly at me
I need a poker face

I sat there in his office, for our first formal meeting and
I thought: what a strange little man
and I thought: thoughts are private, he can't know
but I've no poker face, so as I watched him look at me silently
I was eyeing him like a stained onion under a microscope
Look at the cell wall, the keys dangling from the faded Dockers from 1982
the pale hands with the small sausage fingers
everyone talked about his hands and those small fingers
that would gesticulate and pontificate and annunciate his power over us
He walked from his desk to the table, and it seemed like it took ten steps
and he became smaller with every stride, in the faded wrinkled shirt, made of flannel
like a used bed sheet
there is the nucleus, the papers in his hand I thought and his faded green eyes darted
over at me, and he knew, he could feel it, he knew I thought he was a dork
At last he settled down at the table and I joined him and the sausage fingers
of power shuffled through my evaluations, which were good
before he had that grudge, nursed over the summer
before he let it sink in that he was never good enough in my eyes
that he was always dissapointing me
I would walk to him, like trying to buy good organic food at a seven eleven
and wondering why every time, it wasn't there
He knew he couldn't do anything right in my eyes
He wasn't up to my challenge
I didn't know that he knew

All I have are memories and curiousities
which I try to satisfy hunting around the internet
and finding very little except what I already know and
was it a dream? NO a thousand times no
How do I KNOW?
My poems are the breadcrumbs to my dark memories of the place
A place without honesty a place where I struggled to find the appropriate
illusion or delusion or denial that seemed to work for those successful here
but could not stand it, bear it, do it
and some could, but it wasn't good for them either
"this program is working" "we are at the cutting edge of education"
"our leaders are smart" and I couldn't do it,
couldn't activate that switch which is so close to those switches I struggled so hard to turn off
"my family is happy" "if I am unhappy at home it is all my fault"
and to turn them back on, for they are all connected somehow, would be a kind of death
and I'm not adept enough, compartmentalized enough
not yet. I made many mistakes there,
leaning on the unstable which caused him pain
trying to get comfort from a stone, which dislodged him
but it's over now and today I have a scholarship and I have little notes on my work:
"nice job," "very thoughtful response" and I am that same person I was only a few weeks ago
that same person who wasn't a "good fit" who didn't get it,
who was causing problems with her quick mind and rebellious thoughts
but now its over and all the people I offended have moved on
and the dagger stuck in my belly has been removed and the bleeding
has stopped, and healing has begun
and someday I will make peace with all this