You said you'd call today, you promised
I sit and wait, I've checked all day
my phone seems to surround me like a kind of cloak
or maybe a straight jacket, that I can't get out of
This morning, hope was in my heart like a rosy fog
surrounding me, now the fog stinks like the kind right before the Bay Bridge
I remember from childhood, holding a city hostage in stench
My breath seems connected to your call, that isn't there
I know better, I swore off you like a bad habit, like you are a bottle of ***** and I drank
the whole thing, day after day, so I rejected you but then,
I falter, maybe I was wrong. And by then I was hooked, the needle hanging from my arm.
The remains of your drug dripping from the wound
My only hope: not to know your number, to delete it, and delete it,
but I've called so many times now, I can't forget it
This week, I dialed the wrong number twice, such hope was in me
that finally my poison was out of reach but memory shoved you back in my face
The phone, my own phone, mocks me in it's silence
Such a pretty picture on the front, such a smart, intelligent phone
So silent and above me...taunting me, refusing to give me what I want:
your voice, your faux concern, no need for anger because I knew better
You, who I wait for as if my next heart beat depends on it, are no good for me
One thing I've noticed, can't say learned, because here I am again
if things are bad once, they don't get better
a crazy man gave me that advice about another like you
a man with too many concussions who couldn't paint a bathroom stall in a movie theater
without getting fired
and why did I ignore his advice again?
And why can't you give me such a simple thing?  
I know the answer.

writing is thinking
teaching is what I do for a living
you're not supposed to say I like teaching for
the vacations, but that's a big perk
Plus, you don't have to sell things
and you get to do something meaningful for money

My thoughts become murky
How do I get my script from A to C?
the B part, it's shrouded in mist
like a grasp for it but there is no spine

I wanted to finish it this vacation
but I always want to vacate, too
Life is too short and we do our best
the worst is to waste your precious energy
worrying because you only have control of so much

Stay in the moment, even if it is painful and not what you want
Even when you are tired at work and it's the last place you
want to be and you think you'll be fired
just be there
it makes it better
be there for all your moments
is all you can do

Some people live a charmed life
I haven't
How to live without the worries, the memories overtaking the present?
Just be here
In this moment, everything is OK

Sunday morning
Quiet out, even the freeway sounds are dimmed
My neighbors who get visits from three giant police officers
with weapons, and they all look eight feet tall,
are asleep and quiet for the moment.

Birds outside
I wake up with my coffee and almond milk
A bitter drink, but cruelty free
That is so important to me
After all I have suffered at the hands of others
Not to be an exploiter of a senseate being
Not to ever be like those who hurt and walk away

I go to my half couch
Sit and cover myself with a fuzzy blanket
Little Julietta, my tri-color semi-feral rescue hops up for a pet

There are memories
At 45, I have regrets and pain
and fear of more pain
But not in this moment
In this moment, everything is peaceful
The tormenters are absent
I've run away from them
Excised them from my life
Ignored them, they are all gone
There is a day ahead to live, moment by moment

The flashbacks, the dark thoughts come
Pray, let them pass by like the cars on the distant freeway
To experience them once is not avoidable
To extend that, is
They can float by like clouds on a windy day
There is nothing more to learn from them
No more healing from experiencing their pain

Here.  Now.  Is OK.  That is all we have.

and much maligned
As beasts, dangerous and endangered
hunted to the last and yet they are exquisite
the most beautiful animal and the small and
vulnerable ones are also endangered
fed to pit bulls or smashed in crush videos or just killed in a shelter with a heartstick
but they are the strong ones
surviving even on their own, even despised
by stealth, intense sensitivities and that will to survive
I am a cat

He's a bit odd, this groovy guy
without cash it seems and young, so young
and strange, new age and runs barefoot every day
and oh, what muscular legs he photographs and one day
he'd done it before, but  one day, a picture of his legs and dropped shorts
surfer shorts, keys on top, at the pinnacle of some hill
Kind of a thrill and he posts his feet running, running
up and up and then a view and I love to think of him
And imagine, and yet I know how silly it is to think of
his strong arms, and such well formed body
working out his core, always the core, everything
is the core, the core
Working it out, with me.

So many mixed emotions and feelings of...guilt for not feeling worse about
being fired
Like it should be just a devastating mixture of an acid knife cutting through my
stomach, but it is more like, I am lighter like a Monarch butterfly, despite needing to
shed fifty pounds, and more hopeful and optimistic as I
walk around and finish out my tour of duty at this school
that really feels like I'm in a bombing raid with everyone miserable around me all the time
and no one really hopeful and just there and now I get to leave, or must leave
and it is so hard to leave a paycheck that had I not been forced
I might have stayed
And I was so miserable and no amount of wine from the valley would have made it palatable
and I don't mind moving on at all, was really looking forward to it rather as my mind wandered
up and down the miserable stretches of time and spent a good part of down time commiserating
with fellow sufferers of the place
And now I have high blood pressure, to compound it all, and I feel like maybe now
I can maybe, just maybe find something less toxic because this was certainly
not for me
So I do get scared, but am balanced on a knife's edge and I don't feel it,
so perhaps it isn't a knife's edge at all
perhaps I've fallen into a pit of feathers and can relax into them for awhile.

I checked your hand when I first "noticed" you
That's one of the first things I do
When I feel that twinge of something for a man
People aren't always what they seem, so I do what I can
But your finger was bare, naked and pure
So I continued on, following your lure

You called me silly things like "dear" and "hon"
And you're my boss, so maybe that's something your shouldn't have done
But I watched you, wondering, trying to be indirect
I didn't want you to know what I felt, I don't want you to suspect

And you seemed to be enjoying the little ride
No mention of a woman in your life, or a wife
So then I thought you could be gay
I noticed a hole for an ear ring in your ear lobe one day

It was left over from the eighties: it was only on one side
I came home and went straight to my computer that night
I looked up on the internet which side mean straight?
I remember that whole eighties style, it wasn't great

After that, I knew you must not be gay
Sometimes you'd pay me a lot of attention, sometimes you'd stray
Months went by, and I still didn't know
And my feelings, I tried to not let them grow

But all I got from you was mixed messages
Sometimes you'd ignore me, sometimes you'd be aggressive

Until one day at a party, you were all over me
And I was confused, I couldn't see
why all the attention, was it the wine?
I was nervous, it didn't feel like the right time
And someone asked you a banal question about your house
And you went off on a riff and I was bored, wanted to run away like a skittish mouse
You were trying to explain some silly situation
with hot water problems, that to you seemed like the news of the nation
And what were you doing about it? Another woman asked.
Answering this shouldn't be such a task.  

And yet, you looked around agitated
Why is that question so hard?  It seemed simply stated.
But then your sentences were choppy, and I knew something was up
You looked up and down, and into your cup.

And then it came out, that word "we"
Something you had never mentioned before, that held the key
to knowing your marital status as I'd tried to find out with my subtle might
My stomach fell to the floor. It wasn't a good night.

As I girl, I thought heartbreak was only reserved for love
What does a child know? Only that desperate need for warmth and reassurance
Earning my way in the world, I work, passion leading my way
I learn how work, that holistic toil, with full body and mind
will make you dependent, on the trust, the goodwill of others
those others with power, who supervise your toil, looking down at you, arms crossed, in judgement
You ask your silent soul: am I building something for myself?

Or, am I digging a large hole, piling dirt up on one side
Sweating, my palms earning blisters, that form pop and bleed and form again,
and then am I to fill the hole back up again?
with the same dirt? leading nowhere, a futile mobius strip?
A hamster running at amazing speed on a wheel? Around and around.

Attachment comes to the outcome
What they told you--the bosses, the people with power
How this would help you with your work
How this would improve your world, your hours, your seconds

And when success comes, despite the popped blisters
and the ache in the back, and the dirt lodged underneath your nails,
dirt and sweat rubbed into your very being
When that promise is taken away by those same bosses
who only see you as a number, not a human being
A unit who works, like an electric drill
doing a job here, and easily moved to bore the next hole
when this happens, there is no other choice
but to let go

Let the Gods take your life somewhere else
Be lifted up by the wind of change and enjoy the dizzy ride
You have lost control, so lose it again, give yourself up to the world
And you will land in a new direction, with only the pain of disorientation
Eyes wide, ears alert, only the struggle into the frightening unknown,
A clean break with the past, made by your decision as you regain control and choose
to let go

Who is she?
She's not from around here.
Suspicion surrounds me like fog.
These are tough times, she's from out of town.
A stranger.  Should she work here?
She grew up over an hours drive away.
And I've lived on the other side of the Earth and found comfort
in the company of others
and found that human throughline
written still in cultural, spacial, geographic differences
that sameness, those recurring human themes
Returning home, another town away
I am unknown
Can't you feel the lesson I've learned?
Can't you know what it's like to walk through
the streets of Tel Aviv
The back alleys of Paris
and see human struggles
playing themselves out before you?
And know them from deep inside
as the ones you felt on another continent?
She's not from around here
And I speak English
Don't you know what it's like a
bond in a crowded subway pushed up against
those who don't speak your language
swimming in a different culture every hour of the day
And I am a stranger here.

Out of the pain, like jumping from a pool
Senses reawaken
Body optimistic
Feel the crisp strength of being

Frightened, you looked at me
your prize, your student
a good study and agreeable, too
making good progress
Now pushed aside

From across the interstate of your desk
You stared, impotent
A decision from above, no choice
for me
or for you

Your mood slides down the *****
You panic: you must not feel bad
The brain must save itself from hurt
You say things, rationalizations
zoom through your brain and spurt
straight from your mouth
no censorship for my tender feelings

The next day
you are slumped in your power chair
glasses dripping off your nose
eyes stare vaguely at nothing
The pulsing electric screen
forgotten

The next day
your head in your hands
oblivious to your surroundings
Should I check your pulse?
I didn't want to offend

I was wrong
It wasn't cruelty
It was just a scared man
trying to save his own feelings

Lamentation of a slight Indian girl
wearing a perfect tiny Sari
as her grandmother insisted
she eat something, holding a morsel
partially unwrapped
I couldn't understand a word she said
But everything was clear
Anna Kee Do.  Over and over
As grandmother increased her sales pitch to the
point that I was ready to eat it
The girl would not budge
grandma turned to me and gave me a wry smile

Oh world, sometimes you are too much
People dash their words against me
Like angry, grey waves challenge rocks on the coast  in a storm
Words, spray from the storm, like saliva, floating up and landing
splat next to me
foaming and wet

My eyes are soaked in water from they sky tears
When I braved a walk to the angry coast
Afraid of the power of the Bay
Seemingly endless, overwhelming, unremitting
the loudness of the wave's rants and crashes
ceaseless, overwhelming as I stand near the cliff's edge
Somehow I wanted to know this
to face this

Like your words
I am hit with salt water from below, fresh water from above
how did I get into this storm?
on a hot October day with a fever of 101
You argue with me, accusations fly
Why I want to postpone some crucial work
Until I feel better and the illness that consumes me
subsides

Into my safe space I crawl
The clatter and water outside
If, and only if,  I trust myself
here there is no danger.

Today I called, they weren't, have to be the bigger person
A silent treatment has begun, and I am the adult,
all over a cat, and what is wrong to do--
to care for him
who would answer the phone?
Father, on the first ring
and he sounded nearly dead
and hollow
like I should be concerned the depression
or sadness so dense like the rotting seaweed at Mitchell's cove
at times you can't even see the sand there is so much dead sea vegetable
and flies, forever flies and the smell, from far away so toxic but from up close
seems to dissapear or maybe is simply too overwhelming
as he sits in his million dollar home, planning his Brazilian keynote
he won't have to give until September
It's nearly April and is he happy?

I often wish I could be so cold to leave someone's head spinning with pain and destruction
and walk away, as if nothing happened and that person is crazy anyway
and abandon and neglect and think nothing of it
but is he happy
go lucky?
Am I? Who endured so many of his rants and am still rebuilding and re-evaluating the ruins of my psyche he had such a hand in destroying?
Is it possible, can I now admit, that there is nothing to envy in his position?
That he himself is tormented inside his own head?

And so am I
A death sentence I thought
hit me, didn't hear what anyone was saying really
just fluids under the skin and pills crammed into
his throat and memories of other dieing cats I have
done this for, mechanically, distantly, as if someone else is doing it
and I am only watching
and then another blood test and he's normal again and
the pills and the fluids may be reduced and
my kitty, my best beloved cat who taught me that a cat
can be a purr machine and male and a mother to kittens
and sleep on the top of my head and have been rescued on a beach in Haifa
thirteen years ago, and he can be treated and brought back to health
and take me with him, in his large grey and whiteness and yows and
how can I tell you how much I love this cat?

All our eyes politely averted, twitching around we inspect each other
Women's locker room, women's body

Endless variations but I'm always struck
by our vulnerability
Our body carries us, our consciousness
but is clearly designed for the use of another
Nothing much to protect it
Endlessly prepared for the act of making another
Soft and swinging, nauseatingly available

And I understand
how for centuries we have been merely chattel
with great potentials
because our body is so overwhelming
so obviously important
for survival and therefore valuable and coveted
and our own will
so easily suppressed
by a chance encounter
desired or not

Bleeding every month on it's own timeline
never very strong
An agenda of it's own
that easily co-operates with an enemy
A walking science experiment

And yet
It is ours
We put up with it
it belongs to us

If we can protect it
We can do as we like

We sat around for hours
And it was like that days on days
Sipping wine, eating cheese, just enjoying life's malaise
Of course we were in France, your favorite country
I barely understood a word of what was said, but I still felt care free

Oh, you were my Golden Boy, my Prince, my Knight, my Friend
Oh, we had those good times, and of course they'd never end
I was young, I was scared, I saw what I wanted to
I couldn't bare to face what I knew would come soon

Back in New York we married, had a wedding, such a big party
We invited all our friends, such a big company
I lived through that, feeling like a stranger in my life
Even that big show is not what I like

You promised me your everlasting love, your devotion and your means
Sure, you looked like you had a lot, but things are not always what they seem
I had to learn the hard way, coming back hearing "I could've told you so"
That hurt, it was the truth, something even I know

I left you, standing there, a half a world away
In Israel, you gave me a shallow hug and you didn't stay

That's the last I ever saw of you
Walking down those stairs
Twelve years of love
Like you didn't care

That was eight years ago
People say, get over it, you need a life
After all, you've moved on, I read it in the New York Times

You must have had twenty girlfriends, and few more besides, and then lucky you, you met your future wife
And me?  I come home still today,
and notice how happy I am that there's no one to ruin my day
No one to insult me, no one to call me sick
No one to blame me for his problems which can't be beat back with a stick

I still tense up, walking to my door
I still walk in, waiting for the sore
The projected pain, the insolence, the sickening ingratitude,
I sure know how to pick'em, you were quite a dude

So I'm still alone today, not ready to go
Still scared and scarred, but there's one thing I know
Someday I'll be healed
Someday I'll walk out that door
I'll hold my fear, yes, but it will not haunt me anymore
And then I'll know, you didn't win, because this is what you wanted of me
To be alone, to be afraid, anyone can see

An Israeli pilot was missing for years
and presumed dead
somewhere in the vast desert of the Sinai

I don't want them to die
my old relationships, I don't like killing
I'm No ****, nothing must die under my watch
even unhealthy relationships that are only anxious attachments
and it's better to accept the finality of their death
let them provide compost
nutrients for a better one to grow
that is the life cycle

Out of the emptiness of the Sinai, grew a date palm
Strange, so much so, that a search crew landed and dug around it
And they found him, the pilot, who ate dates, and put the pits in his pocket
before he died.

When it is quiet enough
to hear
wind through Pine trees
and no traffic or sounds
of human destructive civilization
that only owns and exploits
and oppresses and extinguishes
then I know I am
high enough and peaceful

Pine trees are dry
as hot wind slithers through the needles
a soothing sound
far away and out of reach
of those who would take and crush
what is priceless

I said how sorry I was for bothering him so much
and making our relationship awful
he said it wasn't awful,
but I guess to him he'd have to be afraid
I would come at him with an ax
for it to be awful
Awful is all relative, it's still awful to me
I obsess about another who I don' t even like
How can this be?
So easy for me
I think that's how I got married
I apologized to this one and he didn't care either
"No worries," he says, he's a *******, much younger
women, you know, they just can't keep their minds off of me
It's all fodder for his ego, but like a blood drip from my veins
but you don't understand, I want to shout, I don't even like you
I think I'd have a terrible time with you
but I want to call you every day
and you repulse me, I have no respect for you
So there I am, abandoned, alone, in my crazy mind

I told the shrink I wanted to commit suicide
I was so jacked up, filled with self hate
Like a jagged rock slashing
through my veins didn't want to stay
in my skin
but I'm calmer now
And I don't even really know how
things got that bad
I'm not even that mad
at all

Oh, it was so romantic
and he put it on his computer
where I have my password taped
that I look at every day and can't remember
and I didn't ask for his, and I left it all up in the air
where it should stay, and at times I can barely remember his name
So the same, stepping lightly out over the abyss
will I float or fall or float for awhile and then careen down to
the ground and smash?  And It was in the teacher's lounge and he still
gave me that look of genuine interest that makes me sure
he wonders what I look like naked, and
I wonder if he's cute enough or if he'll be mean
Because a lot of them are I've found and for some
reason an early memory surfaces from a dinner long past
with my boyfriend who I'd marry,
and we were finding out about a dinner party me and my boyfriend
who became my husband and what
was to be served and the Madame said "Eet will be a fish and
eet will be cold."  And we laughed later and it was a cold fish but not fishy,
and not good, because who wants to eat a cold fish
in December in NewYork?
And now my number is on a Post-it on his computer and I can only
wait and see and I do admit I wonder what he looks like naked.

"She's on the inside track to get this whole thing started," that's what he said to them
And that was awhile ago, can't really remember when
But not so secretly he doubted, and he worried and wrung his hands
He really didn't believe me, when I said, "Yes, I can."

And now I've done did it
It's history and then
Someone high said "now it's started, it will make a nice job for my friend."

So out I went, quickly, faster and better than the eye can see
And so, there was only the one great role there left for me

My X kicked me back here, to my home town
I thought it was his greatest revenge
Every crack in the sidewalk was a painful reminder
of the years of silent suffering with a smile pasted across it
I call growing up and
as I'd the therapy habit now, begun in LA and
reinforced and practiced in New York in the Therapist infested Island of
Manhattan
I got one here, and strange things started happening and
the sand of the filthy beaches started to sing to me and
my old high school looked like a pleasant nursery
and I started to groove here again,
feel strong here again like I'd never had
and I learned to love
my home town
after 500 years of therapy

A big American auto dealership shining bright
Silver columns glint in the morning light
Displaying brand new cars at different angles and heights
It pops out of the dull landscape like a bright star at night
But it was not so long ago
That we were about to lose this all
And I remember the swan song before the fall
It's amazing it's there now, standing tall
I was living in NYC
Married, my husband and me
and it was all about the SUV
we saw no reason to conserve any energy
The rest of the world was thinking
Our resources are shrinking
Maybe our cars, should, too
And that was really the thing to do
But ask an exec back in Detroit
What to do right now, what is right
And bigger is better like might makes right
Would be the answer, a sorry plight
And then it all crashed and burned
would not work, like an SUV that could not turn
down a narrow street in an older part of town
made before we thought less of me and more of the crowd
And I'm not glad for the greedy execs
but it was really about American workers necks
I'm glad we helped the car industry
Will it happen again? We shall see.

Means you suspect others
but it also means
you are suspect
because you think we're all up
to the same ***** tricks
as you,
little man, in your big office
with the blonde secretary
who keeps no secrets

They look at you, even show horses, with eyes wild
eyes not meant to look around
because ears look around for horse and eyes see around
but don't move
but they do in a trailer when they wonder
why have you put me in this small box that moves
and you looked at me like that, with large watery eyes
opened up from their usual almond shape
why so frightened?

I can't carry this for you
because this is yours, this fear of me
this is is something I sense but it is not familiar to me
it is not me that is causing it
what is it? what is your projection

a phantom and guilt perhaps
and knowing you did not do the right thing
but suspicion it is my fault you hurt me
silly little man
I can't fallow your thoughts that make no
sense
never did
but I will not hold this for you
This wild stare
and what it means
is yours
not mine

I don't want to see what's yours staring at me
When I open my drawer
I am dismantling my life
I see the handwriting on the wall
You lied to me, and it hurt
Now I'm supposed to be
endlessly professional and circumspect
after you slashed my face with your tongue
you expect me to remain calm
as you put another lie in your file
as you can't find a single thing to like about me
as I do for you, but you never thank me
but pretend I don't exist
and take it all for granted
and criticize and lie and try to get away
with more
You can tell me lies
You can take from me
and give nothing back
I'm sorry dear
I don't feel circumspect
It's the only thing I could think of doing
to rid myself of your presence
to free myself from baseless accusation
that I'm supposed to take as nothing much
and be maligned and act professional
and still I must take the higher ground
because that is the only thing that will save me
from your confused attacks
if you feel cornered, the abuse will unleash
Why must I fight to get the truth accepted?

Frozen pictures of men some not smiling
as if looking really tough is a great way to entice
wondering why I'm doing this again
but knowing I want to
contact and texting, some endlessly
all a fantasy, what is he thinking?
Why am I answering so many texts?
Send me a pic, I already have them posted
send me a pic, babe
sweetheart--I don't even know you
who are you? Easy to give up
To find a human being on the other end
of the screen
I think back to the guy I knew in person
why couldn't he have worked out?
He was as bad as the 2D frozen guys on the screen
only in living breathing 3D

I know I must forget you
Our spicy little passings
The hope, dancing on the surface with nervous energy
ripples across the water

It must end
A trail that leads nowhere
Off a cliff or into a pile of rocks
It only looks like it will lead you to your destination

The destination, a mirage
you see it, but your hand passes through
Again and again
Excitement leads to dissapointment
an endless circle, rolling across the hot pavement

He lurks inside, he does, or maybe he's a she
I'm not sure, only that he is out to destroy me
At every chance he gets, especially when I'm stressed or tired
he takes out his special steely barbs and spires
and into my organs he jabs and cuts
every aspect of my life, he says it *****
I bleed internally, the lashing goes on and on
It's like listening to some bad grating song
turned up way to loud, played way too long
sung by an evil diva/master death metal punk it doesn't matter
the only goal is my destruction, to take me out is its injunction
and the parasitic quality of him, as he lives inside
makes it worse, he is a part of me, no lie
he makes me hate myself and want to die

Everyone wrote back today
Except for you
Serious answers to silly questions
unimportant information taken to heart
The mundane and the banal, back and forth

How quickly the electronic mail appears
out of thin air when it doesn't matter to me

A response from you would cause my heart to pound
Are you waiting for my second plea?
More charming than the last
Coy and more serious with little clues about the answer I want
An explanation couched as a question
so you know what to say

The afternoon turns to the adrenaline sapping heat
I've no energy for this anymore
Your answer to my question must be given up
I must look into the sky and watch the clouds pass by
and hope the answer floats into my head
It will come to me, and you will not be important anymore.

Is the hardest struggle
Especially when it has torn you down
made you believe you are nothing and
first you have to believe I am something
that leap in your own mind is a chasm
a leap of faith and then comes action
riding on a cloud, your small difficult
glimmer of hope to change your outer world
I see why oppression can last for centuries
When one is trodden upon, even that first inner step
is monumental

An aquafer, underneath Saudi Arabia
As far down as an oil well, maybe further
A desert country with too many people and
for five years, the desert bloomed
then the well ran dry
as it has for us
and we don't even know
We can't feel it through our wealth.

After we talked
Your glance
down my naked leg
like a feather
a cool breeze
I felt it

Why I still think in a few French words
when the man who made me like that has long since
passed from my life?
Vacance, just the same, so I can dream, and survive
another brutalizing week
but then I will float along water
propelled only by my own muscles
Lie for a moment in a little winter sun
Re-enter the lives of my characters and
end their stories at last? They have been
waiting for me for years, to be considered worthy
of another's eyes
Hike in cold hills nearby and come home to
home cooked food
Exercise for hours and meet up with strangers
and stay up until really late and maybe see snow
explore life inside and out
After one more hellish week

Not real
little old man
I want to know you have problems
like me
like we

Now I work it self consciously
let me keep my job, oh please

What I wouldn't do
for the likes of you

I've put it to the test
wore my shortest, lowest, tightest best
that I could get away with at work

and see you come running
see you sit next to me
for lunch I arranged for all of us
and peak at my *******
behind a tangle of hair and behind the keys
around my neck

So it works for me, too
And what I wouldn't do
to keep my job

There is this energy to it
all the dramas and he did that and so i did and said
and so did she and then...
it buzzes on and you cannot get any peace
and my parents lived like that and never payed any
attention to me most of the time
and it is a drug
it prevents you from sinking into yourself and your
fears, and it is exhausting
recognize the energy, that drug frenzy energy and know you
must just stop and be here
and breathe and calm your mind until it is a placid, loving lake
peaceful, yet alive and lively, with the reflections of the beauty
of world just here, in the moment, light reflecting off the mirrored surface

All beginnings are beautiful, the French say
Maybe that is why betrayal stings, a finger in a light socket
a lasting burn, like a blister on my foot, my pace is made painful
I walk wounded, stop to try to salve the wound, protect it with the gauze bandage of
"it is over now, he can't hurt you anymore" which bleeds through and needs to be
changed, reminded, advice and commiseration of friends is the antibiotic salve

I look at you and remember a one time mentor and now I watch your behavior
a plastic bag in the wind, your opinions and pronouncements tossed here and there
hour by hour, depending on who is there at the moment to influence you
Shapeshifter you are, talk is too dangerous now
my resentment bubbles over like a hot, shaken, warm soda, even if I try to keep
the cap on, once the froth commences, there is no help, I can't hide it as the liquid
radioactive anger spills forth onto my hand and onto you

So hard for me to accept the death of a relationship
You are still alive and breathing, so how can it be that something is dead?
But there is that dead space between us and a fear of you
in me, and memories, like little sores, in my belly of your abuse
of the wetness of my tears that destroyed the art of my make-up
washed away the eye liner on my bottom lid, as if it was my dignity

You hold the key to my financial future
This job.  You, the boss
and I think you're crazy
In a zone where nothing makes sense
Where the ground is unstable and shifts
And I look around at hollow eyes
moving and very busy
You
and you are simply quite mad

I know we'll have a fabulous time together
Next semester at work will be great
I'll be warm and fuzzy for life
I've never actually been out with him
Never been alone with him
It's just, when it comes to men, I'm ******.

"They'll all want to read ******," you say
I am frozen
Strange words from a school administrator
"Or 'The Story of O'" says another man across from me

A long pause
You both wait
Eyes glance in my direction
What will I say?
I can hear you breathe
What do I think?
I can feel your desire to know like a touch
" I guess ****** isn't very much compared to what they have today"
An additional thought to give new life to the pause
What gets me going?
A silence has been layed out in front of me
to hint at what I like
Expectant breath, I am aware of
until the silence becomes dead
and the moment has passed

I say nothing
I know I would raise your blood pressure
And you're old

I'm into kink
and I don't read boring old books about it
I like to be in control
It comes from years of horse back riding

Cacophony of sounds
As I arise from the tunnel
that manages to smell like wet Earth

People everywhere, walk this way and that
Buildings rise up so people can be
stacked atop one another
Something is available for sale
at every step

A "Farmer's Market" where everything is organic
As diesel fumes spew out from passing vehicles
and the dust and toxic filth of cramped quarters
is flung up by each passing car
where everything has been stepped on sat on spat on
at least once
Hard to believe there is land
underneath the concrete and fossile fuels
and hazardous waste mixed in to it all
That this was once just a field
with soil underneath

And people leave the market with their "organic" food protected
and sealed in clear plastic bags
and despite the hybrid vehicles
the zip cars car pools public transportation cable cars
this place is a filthy mess

At home the people dump the organic salad mix
into a bowl and crunch the plastic bag into another one
under the sink and pour over some salad dressing
on the organic leaves
and settle down to eat with a slight zest of plastic coating everything
They sit underneath a roof that conceals asbestos and cockroaches
and I love the city

The other day I sniffed
and it was me that stunk
do I really have that much underwear?
or have a been walking around all bare?
four weeks ago when this fury of busy began
I brought in a couple of fans
and stepped in one and hurt my toe
and still I know
the pain is there
and I sweat still and wonder where
my life has gone

And clawed and hacked at everything she hated
about herself.
My original ultimate authority: my mother
a woman who does not know who she is
I remember her being so tall and powerful
In the kitchen opening the refrigerator on Kaines street
A cold box with rounded corners and the brand in cursive
as I passed by through the garage where there
were mice the cat wouldn't catch she was furious and
I was scared about what she would do to the cat
So I went out into the overgrown yard, and made a little maze
I flattened down the long grass leaves and sat, protected
from her rage in the warm Berkeley sun
a rage to venomous and frightening I thought
it would **** me, or the cat, so I mustn't get too attached
to the cat because she may just vanish suddenly
and my mother is just an older woman now
but her ghost, lives on
my bosses, the authorities of my adult hell
scare me as only she could
But they are not her ghosts
No one will ever have such power again

Every once in awhile in therapy
there comes an epiphany
Last night came one that blew my mind
And really, it's about time

Suddenly I could finally see
Something she's been telling me
I don't believe I can actually do it
Over and over I've tried, but can't get through it

The feeling I had the day he said "thank you"
that inner glow, it came from me, not from an outside "you"
She said I can learn to create it
from just me, not go through a relationship grater

I said, no, I'm way too flawed
I felt good about myself that moment and I'm still in awe
Of how good it felt, what a natural high
But now the feeling is gone, I've made peace with goodbye

But no she said, playing the role of my advocate
and it is a part for which she is quite fit
You felt good about yourself and you can do it again
all by yourself, without a faux friend

All these guys have done nothing for me
When I felt good about them, it was only me
creating that inner glow
it wasn't something about which they know

It really all depends on me
On learning how to appreciate my inner sea
and my outer self, and all the rest
And its not just about being put to a test

It's about silencing that critical inner voice
I developed when I was a child, and had no choice
But to blame myself for my parents flaws
And it's a habit I live with till this day, the card I continue to draw

What a concept
What a sense of power
To think my feeling good can be all up to me
to think I don't have to depend on someone else
for a sense of worth and everything else

I don't think I can do it
But my medicine woman does
So, I will try to take that leap of faith
So, fly, I tell my inner dove

not so beautiful a life
normal on the outside
filled with internal strife
the day you said you loved me
My heart opened up to see
the day we parted
i felt tossed into the sea

the unfamiliar Atlantic
so way far from shore
an open heart is bleeding
don't need it anymore

So I closed my heart forever
sealed it up with a stitch
covered it with a zipper
threw it in a ditch
and I've been living ever since
in a fine kind of life
but now I want my heart to open
to peak out, risk being broken

even for a moment
the fear comes howling back
will I drown in the cold, dark ways
or now do I have a knack
for balance and resignation
to the fact that nothing lasts forever
we just go from station to station
on a train ride with no destination

Into pain
I go
Aloneness
No companion can cure

The knife edge
I balance on
digging deeper
to find relief

It's a **** stroke, no matter how you look at it
especially if you look at men from underneath
from the bottom of the pool
It's not to hard to see
where that movement comes from

I come home and my cats greet me
One, poor soul, has cancer
I give him his drugs, pills in the back of the throat
a spritz of water to help him wash it down
Pain lotion smoothed on his ear

I am not lonely
I walk through streets filled with couples
I work with people who are with someone
Always someone to text, to tell what their next move is
I watch, an anthropologist learning something
My patience is endless, I feel like a different species
I study faces at a bar
What is going on inside?
People tell so much by how they look

After divorce, I thought, being alone was the worst thing
Desperately, I went on dates, riding a roller coaster of my own making
As I got better, the dating stopped

Now I just watch.  
I still feel relief
as I walk through my own door
there is no one to rage at me
No one to insult me
No one to not be there when he's supposed to be
No unwelcome company
I left that eight years ago
And I still am so relieved to find only
animal faces, who only care about their next meal,
a drink of water, a warm bed

This work, reflecting on who I am
doing what I want, taking up the space of me
I should have done many years ago
but we do the best with what we have at the time
I can't look back and regret, I did what I thought was right

I am alone, but not lonely
I'm doing work.
Constructing a stronger foundation
that someday will welcome the close company
of another