Trying to get back in the swing
my ears ring
Must do this work to prepare
pain in the air
my throat, my ears
harder to fight the fears
will I ever be myself again?
free to create my minutes
my story
to see it to the end?

And I'm throwing it off the pier
I want to hear it as it hits the water
see the splash and feel
a drop come back up in my face
the ***** diesel water will cleanse
and maybe then I'll finally be on the mend
I don't even know much about him
Just talked to him a few times, but already
that thing is kicking in and I don't feel fine

"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 ****** mess of a psyche and try to attend to the wounds
to heal, the be willing to walk in, squishy entrails cut off
and ****** 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

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 I really do mean men.  And mostly white men.
I learned that at Columbia film school
In LA, at USC, all those male filmmakers were somewhat suspect
What they made, could not often be called "art" but even worse
they tended to extreme geekines
They wore ***** athletic shoes everywhere and spent long hours on sets
in t-shirts, wearing caps with the name of their film on them and not smelling particularly fresh
They were not particularly athletic in a city that sport "muscle beach."
But here, they were MEN.  They could hold their own in any test of masculinity
as art is a serious undertaking, and requires great powers of the intellect
And here, where most life is spent indoors, the men dressed well,
in proper leather shoes that had names, and followed the fashion of the bohemian moment
which was not considered bad, maybe because you need clothes so much there
You are always freezing or sweltering and sweating.  You freeze outside in winter
and you sweat when you come indoors.  In the summer you boil outside in hot
and air conditioned New York, like you are in purgatory, and then freeze again in the air conditioning
To have that artistic authority, no woman can come close
It isn't a woman's world, at least in the early nineties in New York, it wasn't
Such a dissapointment for me since I thought I could somehow slip through by sheer cleverness
It's like a black person hoping to be identified as white.  It can't be done.
There was a place for me, like no matter where I hid in a cinematography class
in the front, middle or back I always became the woman who is photographed
to demonstrate lighting
"You learn the most up here" said Beta Badka, in a thick Ukrainian accent as he set me on a stool
But that's not where I wanted to be
I longed to be taken seriously, telling stories about women, about girls
and having them be respected with that same cache
that came with stories of men

In Hebrew you say that
you talk "in" the phone, not "on" the phone
prepositions aren't international

I worked with Ari and Zohar at the cat shelter
in the afternoon shift
Ari lost his job at the cement plant
after twenty years
There are no trees so cement makes everything
cement is your house, your floor
your city
Now he worked for minimum wage
Thirteen sheckels an hour for a few hours
in the afternoon

Zohar was a law student
with a passion for animals
"they must all be Americans," my American friend sniffed
when I told her of this group
dedicated to the welfare of Haifa's cats
No one was American but me

We worked near the Kryote on the road to Tel Aviv, the Haifa
Soccer team sped past our dilapidated
caravans on a dirt road to their practice field
I always worried they would squish a kitten

Near a boarding school for agriculture
and a cell phone tower spewing out cancerous radar
I loved working there

I cleaned, then washed at least 25 cat boxes
with a hose with no hot water hooked up to an old bathtub
outside.
Palm leaves strung up
for shade above me
gave some medications
the afternoon shift
at four, we politely sat down to instant coffee
(water boiled in an electric ***, a koom koom
the only way to make it warm here)
and chocolate
and cigarettes
Always cigarettes

I didn't know where my husband was
one morning, he had taken the car
so I couldn't keep going to this place or anywhere else
I think he was living with his new girlfriend
a former student of his, in Hadar
Hadar means beautiful
It was the cheapest place to live in Haifa

I took the bus, and if I had the money
a second

If no money for a second, I'd walk past the military base then
through the banana groves
taking my first shaky steps to independence
wind through the leaves so soothing
Lost in giant waving leaves
they seemed to embrace me
wave to me, cheer me on
like bystanders at a marathon.
Plants living their silent lives so peacefully,
apart from the hot struggles of humans,
through dirt roads and finally at the shelter
where kitties awaited me.
Some of them were mine
he dumped there
I wanted to live here
to me this was now home

Sometimes Ari gave me a ride
I'd walk an hour, wait at a bus station
Sometimes a dead cat nearby on the street
hit by a car, common and unnoticed
Smoking now, like everyone else
cigarette butts around every bus shelter
trying to say goodbye to this place
that for all my poverty
my desperation, was lighter now
that he was gone


Grieving, my psyche spinning,
Trying to handle all the contradictory feelings
Loss and relief,
Grief and freedom,
Respect and love for this place
now that he was gone
Surprised by this feeling
Fear of the great unknown
waiting for me, a town
I escaped from eighteen years before
would soon be my new home
on the other side of the planet
I was in nowhere

1979, A live broadcast, my father bid me come
to our new color TV set, the high pitched whine
it gave off muted by meaning
"remember this moment" he said
and we watched, in awed silence as
two men, Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin shook hands
and our President presided
a cold peace at last
In retaliation for... Sadat was later shot through
the skull and died on a stage in a pool of warm blood
surrounded by his brethren

A letter dated 1944
My father's fingers trembled with it in his hands
He brought it out to show me
"I am the only survivor...all the rest are gone...
I am going to Israel"
Written hastily with pen and ink, our last
surviving relative who we know not of
bid farewell to Russia and was on track to a new land from the wellspring
of grief and ******

A Jew, my father
A half Jew am I and would have been all the same
to the **** killing machine I thought one languishing summer day
as I ate unripe apples with small wormholes at a farm
full of horses
Safe in the quiet, if uncaring peace of a world far away
from dead Nazis and the abandoned killing centers


Rabin Square in Tel Aviv, 2003
We walked through at night, my husband and I
A large empty space in a city without largeness or emptiness
We walk without recognition
as it is now just a place and not only a shrine
But I linger to look at one corner
At an embedded sculpture of confused cement blocks
jagged angles and useless plains, rendered in immobile lasting cement
a testament to futility
It is pain, frustration and the sickness of human violence--
Itzak Rabin
who was shot and bled to death
in a crowd in the dust of his also unknown and forgotten ancestors
in retaliation for the hope of peace

News of more bombs today
Fresh death
Mangled human potential rendered useless
In retaliation for...

My favorite new word, but your dictionary only knows outsourcing
When we think of creating new jobs, when we thing of working
Now we think of other places
Long hours, cramped spaces

No rights, governments that don't protect
The people have no choice, they can't connect
My gadgets are produced by these poor souls
And everything "made in china" is getting old

Lets have some insourcing

Saturday morning
Bedroom with sun shining through my green diaphanous curtain
My cats have carved out little holes where sun strikes through, unfiltered
and a rhythmic sound from above
Someone is getting frisky
and has a squeaky bed
And the natural cycle spins on, faster, faster
more intense and finally gone in silence
It's better than violence
but still TMI

We sat outside the office and I knew this wasn't good and there was a solemn atmosphere around there,  all over, like everyone is looking at a dead woman walking but I'm only fired
and I know this is going to happen when his face appears, anxious, can't look at me but finally making eye contact with me, voluntarily, since the play.  The good play, and then the taking away from me of the whole job and now it's time to take it all away.
And the secretary is preparing a big notepad where she will pretend to write big notes but they mostly she is really there to absorb it all with those big eyes and then walk around the halls and tell everyone she knows because in the restaurant when we walked in, her assistant, yes she has one, gave me that look, of knowing, understanding pain and everyone knows now, and they were all quiet as we walked in, two live people and one dead one
and the only thing is I don't feel dead, actually more alive, but a little scared because it's not clear what comes next although I know what I want

and he glanced and told us to wait and closed the door and called my real boss, who actually knows me, like he wasn't sure if I'd actually showed up and I knew in that one look he gave that this was THE END
So then he went and opened the door and said we'd wait for my boss because it was time to chop off my head and say it's not a good fit and that is what is printed on every single piece of paper that goes out to people like me these days, people who are so disposable
and yet he says "not a good fit" like it really means something and is just the right words for he moment.  really.  '
then he tries to change the tone to one of being upbeat and telling me the wonders of resigning and how great it will make my life and I'm just sitting there thinking
this is the most ridiculous pretentious scene, and I look over at the secretary who is staring at me, looking for tears and drama so it will make a better story "and then she--and she--" and it was just like "oh my God I can't believe she  and he" but I just stare back at her and there are no tears.   And instinct tells me what this is about, although I don't know, but instinct tells me that I am a threat to she who took my job and it is just so much easier to send me on my way

and my boss who will do whatever his boss wants starts to tell me that I have a lot of good things about me and--
he is cut off by a glare from his boss
so he crosses his legs a little tighter and his arms tighter and shuts up

and I admit I think this is the right thing because I am miserable and this is not what you are supposed to say.  
but it is the truth
I am in a sick, unhappy situation and this is finally a way out
and the three men sitting around me look like they don't know what to say or do
and they are vaguely insulted
and there are many more like me but they don't get this option so freely so they
stay and spend hours a day commiserating
and I am free
at last

I went and saw and lost myself and never thought it would happen to me
like a car accident with fire trucks and ambulances and police
and stretchers and pour souls waiting
that will never happen to me
Until down into the abyss I go and time seems to slow
and I surf without getting wet
pathetic just like the rest
An addiction nevertheless that freezes thought in an instant
and replaces them with endless searching for meaning and fragile connection
Circling around, look here, no direction, life on hold and desperate without risk
spinning out of control on the internet.

I got the flu in mid January and it's nearly Spring and still I cough
but I decided to force myself to go out
and get on Bart and go to Berkeley
and I saw things
stared at an ad for "American Idol" on the platform
for an unseemly amount of time trying to figure out which
human representation had been more photo-shopped
Fascinated, coming out into another land other than work home bed

Standing on the Bart platform, with no evil smells like the New York City subway and a breeze
and a polite voice telling me when the train would come
And at the next station an ad for the Jewish Museum and a young Ethiopian Jewish man
has an exhibit there and I felt good, that yes, there is such awfulness in Israel
but even there, like here, some can rise

And then Berkeley and my favorite cafe,
and it so reminds me of Columbia University, only cleaner
but it doesn't hurt about my X anymore
but it reminded me of my cat who was dieing in July and
he didn't want me near him too much because
dieing things like small spaces and not too much attention
so I left him in the closet curled up as cancer worked it's inevitable devastation

And I was coughing and tired, an invalid at the end of the day
but I made it to the Shattuck Cinemas to watch "Lincoln" and they have
a bar, and couches in the theater and you can take drink in if you're over 21
and that was our idea, in my days as a theater manager, we'd
talk about ways to bring more people in and we suggested couches and alcohol
and our manager laughed and thought we were crazy
but here is crazy and people walk in and love it
I sat in the back and took up a whole two seat couch selfishly and
listened to people come in and say how nice it was

Today I was an invalid again and could hardly get up
but the memory, it was worth it
I am slightly more alive again

to feel a part of this world, to feel the air that is being cleansed
of the filth and rot of civilization and to see the dry creek out
back that kids built a fort around last summer, with a filthy mattress as a bridge
fill to the brim with cold muddy water that will run through the artificial pipes and what little is
left of what was once a beautiful and natural valley, now paved over and trod upon and
suffocated by humans and the cold rain touches my bare arm and reminds me that I am
a part of this world, even as I struggle against it as we humans do.  And I wish I was far
away from this place, far away from all this crowding and muck and ceaseless competition
and wrong moves and attacks and I wish I could have only the silence of a loud storm
cleanse my consciousness and make me believe again that there is hope in this world and the
rain hits my watering can with a ping, ping sound and wind roars into my third floor apartment
and I feel alive.

one little flower
in a sea of flowers and sitting
in a meadow looking at how the white faded
to pale yellow and brown and it was small
and prickly and they looked better when seen as a mass
hungry, and prepared with lunch
I walked off the trail to find
another meadow spot with a better view
and my foot plunged into an abyss and the ground met
my head suddenly...but it was OK

Which is why you shouldn't drink and dial
because I tried to call you, turtle man
who has two turtles and 57 unanswered messages
on his phone

I never would have noticed
had it not been for you
who look like a turtle, that unfortunate Caucasion trait
of no chin, though you are thin
is that why you like them?

I saw one yesterday in a nature preserve in the middle of Walnut Creek
So I call, masked call, no answer
you are unavailable, eternally, and I am wild with two Vodkas
and I think it would be so kool to connect with you

And the phone rings and rings and of course you don't pick up
and I can't feel my pain in my back and feet from all the walking
and swimming and hiking
and you will never be what I need
and that makes you the perfect target for me

Sunday night fright,
anxiety
takes me to the phone, to drink and dial

When I first saw him, he smiled, was very welcoming
And I thought nothing really about him, Authority figure warning this boss
who wasn't my boss because now I'm a student but there was nothing about him
Just another AP, covered in man clothes, long shirts and collars and belts and
slacks and at a married weight with a paunch over his belt and a picture of a
child on his cell phone. same old.

At the meeting I was sitting next to him and I felt that feeling
the authority figure disease I get where I think he's hot
and I noticed he had blue eyes, and a good build underneath
the married weight and this was totally insane.

I'm just nervous.  I don't really want to ride him like a pony
as I was thinking and crossed my legs and imagined
us naked, stealing away in some bland hotel and
just going at it to ecstasy and that blood rush feeling that starts
in your groin and seems to go out the Universe and you
share it with that, other being who for this moment is God and you Goddess

And the meeting was boring, so I shifted my legs again and
thought.  I'm just nervous.  This is what I do.
My habit of mind.
He doesn't really look like Robin Thicke
and I don't care and God I hope he doesn't notice
or can't read my mind and he turned and tried his best
to look up my skirt and I'm sure in his mind,
it's my fault he did that when his wife lives inside his cell phone
and has borne him new beings and here he is

And thank God the meeting was over and I never thought
about him again, not once

You're an animal in the pool, he said
Once I came back from a dip, I turned red
We'd been chatting about coasts East and West
He was a business man, had he a wife? That's a yes.

But it was obvious that he was full aware she was far away
All the way around the world, in Sardenia, *** you say
He dropped little lines about when he was leaving
It was in a couple of days, and I was thinking
This is so obvious, this is so gross
I already feel sad, and I'm trying still to make the most
of my time and I think how could it get worse?
I bet it's not to hard to tell as I write this verse.

Back in the pool I couldn't do my drills right
Even if I stayed there all night
I imagined myself telling a friend
I thought I felt bad and then
I took the bait, the drug, the distraction
And then only the worst did happen

The pool was closing and it was only too clear
This guy really wanted me to stay near
But the voice in my gut said get away
And so, stronger now, on this track I did stay

Nothing can change the stress in my life
But a drug, an affair won't make it all right.

I was accused, I thought you were me, and you thought this of me but really
It was pointed out to me and I think it's more correct that this is what I think of
you, who have taken the pleasure out of my days more than once,
caused tears to fall, resemble my mother's sharp and sudden cruelty
it is you, who I believe, are the devil incarnate
and not the other way around
breaker of rules, betrayer of confidences, dissembler, user, you are to me
a nightmare

He loved it and it had become a part of the family, nestled among pictures of his family
moved away from the other chachkas, elevated
How you have turned 180 on me.
And there is no doubt now, that I hate you
The lies, to the bitter end, as you gave my job away
to someone else you suggested I give a pile of my hard work
to that person
I saw that little gift, the fetish of a wolf and I couldn't stand it being displayed like that,
behind your little bald head, your cold little body wearing a coat on a sunny day
How you slammed me this year for nothing
Tried to smash me into silence with words
Denied how rules were broken against me
even as it is as clear as day they were
And there was a symbol that someone liked you enough
to give you exactly what you asked for
Isn't that wonderful, to be so well thought of
that a follower would give you your heart's desire
the perfect little gift
So I lied.  
I said I wanted to borrow it and it's so easy to lie, I see.
Kind of intoxicating to lie in order to get someone to do what you want when you have no
intention of doing what you are promising to do.
You became so obedient, proudly handing it to me to "borrow"
But by the afternoon it hadn't returned and I think you were starting to realize
looking at me like a little boy, whose mother has destroyed his favorite toys
as it dawned on you, as it has, so many times before for me, that you had been done *****
If in that small way, you know what it feels like to be tricked, misled
If at that moment, you felt, it hurts
I am happy for it

Wedding band on your finger, it's a mighty thick piece
I know cuz I looked when I found I liked what I see
And today, I see you, no one else around
But your attitude has changed,  it's obvious even the sound
of your voice is different, it's charged and a bit gruff
Sensual, urgent, like you didn't get enough
of something and now you've found you need it now
and perhaps it's standing right in front of you, not back at home in town.

"My hairs a mess, I was wearing a hat," you say
That's really strange, you usually don't act this way
Then you're getting all personal, right off the bat
Where I live, who I live with, stuff like that

And you find I've been divorced for eight years
You're so surprised, it's such a long time, and I see your leer
So what you care?  Why you all up in my junk?
Seriously, you are sort of, kind of, some kind of hunk

But that band on your finger, I can't miss that
That can only mean pain, so I'll leave you to your hat

He was out the door, slammed shut in 2004
and he couldn't get back in even if he wanted to
because the lock broke after he moved out to Hadar
the arm pit of Haifa, and wouldn't tell me where he was
as a punishment for my banishing him.

A friend saw him on Masada street.
In the end that proved to be his street
oh, the time I had for friends, in the hot Mediterranean sun
dinners in cramped living rooms with laughter and wine and always
houmus.  You can't eat a meal without it, and prints of art on the wall
and the cement floor, and the too many cats

So he'd crash in, do something that had to be done, insult me, and leave
and this was it
I sat in that big apartment with he fancy black cement floors and smoked
cigarettes and took the bus to the cat shelter to clean 25 cat boxes in a cold water
bath tub and set them out to dry in the sun
and hang discarded clothes on a fold out clothes rack, each cat got a shirt to lie on
and instant coffee and chocolate at 4:45 PM and cigarettes as cats walked around in the
sunset

But at home, sometimes I'd try to get him back, if I could
But he could always be so much more mean, poking at the tender spots
without remorse and I learned, not to fight back
Just to collapse and cry as the door slammed or he said something
and then stormed out, absolutely not caring

There were my friends, here I have no time for friends,
and I talked to him and prepared for a time when I'd go back and
have no time for friends again
Everything would be work, work, get yourself back on track
you've lost so much time

But here, too, the losses are deep and I sit in my own apartment, with
carpet and a dishwasher, that I could only have dreamed of having then
and my own car in the parking lot,  and

People make me cry.  
People where I work, people I mistook for friends
and it's better now, I now, if I can only follow through
to seek no revenge
but just to mourn
Because the world can be more cruel and cold and uncaring
than I can ever imagine
there's no competing
it's better to sit and cry here, too

And in the morning it was one
California clothes just don't cut it
in that shiny frigid Logan sun
and yet daily life goes on in Utah
and maybe that should make me stop and think
I take too good for granted,
I complain: too much work, sore throat, and a dish filled sink
But here, it's 65.
I should take notice of things like this
like this little perk of a California life.
And remember there was a time, about nine years ago
When I yearned to be here, was trapped on the other side of the world, and I just couldn't go

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

and I woke up to hear it and see it because I love the rain
it is cleansing and renewing like a good cry and it changes
the landscape and makes it quiet as nature asserts herself over us
and we need more rain.  we need more tears to wash away the sadness and
stress the envelops the world and my cats are here with me, warm and dry
and afraid of the thunder and little Julietta wants to go out but there is too much
water and I with my sorrows am soothed by the sound of water washing over
my world, sliding off my shelter and running down a little stream.

I wanted you to like me, respect me, maybe knight me
But you don't even see me, need me, want me
and quickly you found another
and now I've just uncovered
a gloomy kind of thing
but I will shout and ring
cuz you weren't a guy who'd ever please me
weren't a guy who'd even see me
and now it's over now I see you
and it's clear I'm something you'd never do

It was out of sight and too far
Now it's off but it's still there
but it won't co-operate and I'm scared
How could I come this far
have so much wisdom a whole bunch of  intuition
and then at the hint of a little romance
I'm naked in that storm, without a chance
Cold wind blows through my tinted hair
Snow flakes melting on my body, here and there
Obsession

Anxious, fears flitting in and out, through my head and back again
feeling like I know what it is to stand for the verdict
to live the last few hours on Death Row
And it is only a job, a silly job, a source of income
but this feeling, the same as I had last year when I lost
part of what made the job interesting
but this feeling that I have that I am so often dead on correct about
an intuition that pierces me and sets me on edge
and so often comes true
Maybe I would give up this intelligence, this ability to foresee for a little peace of mind
But no, there can never be too much you know, too much you can see
the water can never be too clear, the view never too deep

Bright white plates are placed at the bottom of Lake Tahoe
to measure the clarity of the water
which is now murkier than in Mark Twain's day
so the plates must be put closer to the surface
and I don't want that
to lose that purity of sensitivity
I only want to be able to know and not fear
So keep the plates where they are
the water remains pure and it has to

You are going to fire me I am nearly sure
I don't deserve it, but I didn't deserve to lose what I lost last year
when I had the same feeling

I want to look at it, pose with it
take pictures as I caress it and aim, wearing very little
Feeling very ****, especially if it wasn't loaded
It would bring me such excitement,
but ultimately, I'd get bored, and there it would lie
amidst all the other junk that once got me high

Since I was a girl
I imagine great feats
of daring and cleverness to save
the village, city or world

The City inspires me
Streets of San Francisco sun
Bart rides blurring as I listen
to Swedish techno and imagine
the trailer to my film

Running to, running away
Catching in the act, driving
Getting hurt, getting up
Of course there's computer hacking
which I do with finesse
Something explodes
It's not me
I'm the first to realize what is really going on
and the first to enter the belly of the beast
everything depends on me as I move
quickly and my dialogue is clever
at the most dangerous moments

We end up
In a deserted warehouse with one gun
each and I outwit you and save the day
alone as everyone else shows up
I am an action hero

because it's been quite a day
and then I hope my memories will just slide away
no one likes insults
no one likes low blows
it's like bandages in your nose
so gross
so just leave them there is a pile
in the wreckage I call work
one road was wrong
but I was a coward and so I stayed on
afraid to incur someone's wrath
I took myself to task
Until another order
from a higher plane
made me have to change
and i had to drive through that blast all the same
but offending high, or offending low
I guess it's low or it's no go
and then I went threw those flames
and how she cursed my name
and how I fear what she'll do
i wish I could work with someone new
but I have to let it go
i've done my best and so
I have to leave it there
like a sleeping cat on my favorite chair
there won't be twenty vodkas,
they'd offset my chakras
naw, i can't do that
i can just. let it go. leave it at that.

Missing you, my day begins
like black coffee
bitter and acidic
without the soothing cream of your presence

But I will forget you
as the footsteps I create
on the beach sands are washed away
by the rising tide, forever cleansing what was

I will forget you
I will learn to enjoy the numbness of solitude
At first it is bracing
as the arctic current
washing over my hot feet
on a cloudless summer day

I will forget you
and learn to crave the solitude
as I begin to seek the coolness and clarity
of the freezing water of my aloneness
being mesmerized by gold glittering sands as they wash back to the bay

If I was then who I am today
I would have left the hopeless hurtful marriage and not
fallen for your words which tell me, over and over, you are too sensitive
you spend too much money, too
and I do,
but I would have left because still, no one deserves to be abused
I always think, I stay, no matter what they say or do
I don't pull out, no matter how much it hurts
but a month ago I did, when I hurt to badly
from a man, and he still wanted me to stay and I said no
I am not having fun anymore and it was over
and no I didn't need help with my script
and no, we aren't friends because we never hang out
and this must be the new me
because I will never be destroyed again by a man I pick out myself
I have changed

Never knew how many there are
I see them now, and notice no other car
and compare them to his: the red jeep in the exact same
parking space, every morning, as clean as a cup out of the dishwasher
and I noticed the modifications he made
and now he travels, away from me
and I know he'll never come back to me
And someday I won't notice anymore jeeps
and I will know deep down to my core
that I didn't really like him

He hated all the poor and then
He must have even hated Jews
Really that should be in the news
If all I read were right wing tracts
I would accept the above as fact

Although I'm sure he was popular with the girls
He descended from the "people of the book"
So likely he sported the Semitic look

You may have heard differently on on Fox News
But I'm sure that this is the truth
And here's another interesting fact
Martin Luther King Jr. was definitely black

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

"The problem is that if you put a green
pepper in with a tomato, it turns brown."
Why not try an onion?
I ask myself as the conversation passes me
on the stairwell
Roommates wake each other up now
juicing
You can't argue with juicer that their new
obsession will not make them live to 120
or experience life on a knife's edge
Maybe our brains aren't that large, after all

the panic thought: I can't finish this before the deadline
just notice it, like a cloud, it will pass by
the pain: why won't my X acknowledge my simple thoughts
why does he pretend I don't exist
just notice, that is the way it is, this thought will pass, this feeling
the worry: my work starts up soon, how will I do?
lay off again?  the budget? the election?
just notice, this will pass
your life will pass by
you must live in its moments
in order to appreciate it

The stress in my body was palpable, and at work, still heading to that dreadful place
The theater where I wasted countless hours and now had to go to an endless meeting
with death by Powerpoint and be told that if I just SMILE then students, even low
struggling, alienated, overlooked students who have fallen through the cracks of society
so early in their childhoods that they now prefer that dank and ***** environment to
daylight
But if I SMILE at them when talking about taking a standardized test which will determine
if these forgotten abouts and given up upons who are now hardened to that reality and resent any
disturbance of it, just SMILE and they will be excited to take that test and it's been proven by science after all said the principal who was also SMILING at us, the staff that doesn't matter except if you have been there a thousand years and one half and also went to one of their schools, and the Powerpoint, the powerpoint I could hardly watch because it featured our mascot the coyote hunting down and killing in the snow, and ended with a coyote, blood on its gums, snarling past the camera viciously, like a true predator, and that, that was supposed to motivate me to SMILE and get juiced to tell the downtrodden to look forward to their fate of failing the test and trying again and again in order to graduate.  Over and over, the same test. That haunting snarl.
That threat. That fake, pasted on smile. There is no love there, only control and threats and backstabbing, but it is only work.

And she stood there, her hand firmly massaging her chin as if there were whiskers there that needed to be combed and comforted and the high pitched presentation went on and I felt my body filled with energy and desire and maybe this is what a testosterone soaked man feels but
she didn't even look at me as I passed by, just made a purpose of staring at her set which is such a feeble attempt, that the big guy hasn't even been called in to help with it

And I thought the most satisfying thing in the whole world would be to just walk right up to her and clock her one in the face with my right arm which is stronger, followed by a left hook and some kicks and after that it would be just crazy mayhem and no girlish hair pulling because...
I was so angry and it was like a thirst to destroy this person who just picked up my accomplishment and called it her own to the applause of the smiling principal and the high pitched associated principal and his endless powerpoint the content of which I can't recall except to know it's a lot of work that no one wants to do and I volunteered for it and was rejected but I don't really want to work for a coyote who snarls and spits blood and tells me to smile and be warm.

But it was frightening, yes, more frightening to me than the pictures of viscious wild animals, because they are only animals, and just trying to survive.  
But I, the beast in me, the bloodthirsty anger and desire to destroy in fantasy was so
terribly and sensuously satisfying.

On on select part of an Israeli beach in Haifa
Army kids, boys and girls
Crowded in this one place
Cordoned off by Kadeema
Badmitton without the net
or soft little bungy thing
Two ping pong rackets and one
hard ball back and forth
Bat! Bat!
Two boys, in lines up and down
their beach, two rows deep at least
near the water's edge for traction
Walk through and a ball heads for your face
but never hits
they are that good
and you feel silly
for being scared
until a racket whacks near your ear
and your hair moves
with a current of air
Zillions of bat! Bats!
They never think to
stop for your benefit
that is not in their culture
as you are unscathed,
only fearful
A beach cluttered with boys and girls
sit on old towels close together
Ceaseless, lively chatter in the hot sun
Displaying to each other as the sound of kadeema
and the ocean waves slosh in and out
Girls relaxed *******, start to peak out
of their string bikinis
As boys look on, move closer
ever closer
and the *******, feeling safe, expose themselves more
to the Mediterranean sun

Woke up this morning, thought I overslept
Eyes swollen shut from all the tears that fell
I just don't know if I can keep up going on

Keep thinking bout the time when we first met
You were down and out
I worked up a sweat
Never knew it'd turn into death do us part

Think of all the hard times we been through
No matter what went down, you'd see me through
Now it's like a part of me is gone

You were a part of me, now I see
I can't restart, don't know what to believe
There's a hole inside and it hurts like hell
In my emptiness I'm not doing well

I know we saw this coming a mile away
doing all the right things,
then all you can do is pray
So God take your soul now and please treat it well

And now that you're in that better place
I'm still here tryin' to keep my faith
that everything will turn out all right in the end

Wander around like a zombie
Feel like  losses, they just keep coming
But there's one thing that I want you to know
I always and forever and ever will love you so
always forever and ever I will love you so

Kitties running around in here
with their tails up, without a care
a morning celebration
of life, of creation

His ears are soft now, not scabby
His purr is deep and mellow
He played with catnip this morning
Now on my lap, nestled between my naked *******
soft fur, never knowing or caring my clothing status
fluids, pain killers, anti-nausea
I never thought it would help
but it has and today is a good day
almost like his old self
my thirteen year old pancreatic cat reborn

let them drift by
let them turn on and off
like stars in the sky
open your palm and let them float free
blowing into the wind
you will see
your new self
created in air
its up to you if you want to share

My treasured drink, a bubbly pink
As I wear my most beautifying dress
that clings to my curves
Let the glass tip horizontally
As my perfect smokey eyes
watch the drink be taken
by the force of gravity
and splash on someone's
white **** carpet next to where my
stilettos stab into their floor
and feel a tiny splash of liquid on my
naked summer skin
and watch the pink stain expand and lighten
and be absorbed by some other entity
You are the drink
I must leave your mark
in the carpet
and walk away

Drain the moat
Let down the draw bridge
excuse the body guards all of my mind

A frightening prospect
But the only way to be close
How will I know?
Whitney Houston never had an answer
for me in that song

Can't do it yet.
Only ponder what it might feel like
Just wait, no desperation
No fear

So full of pain
Why am I in this game?
Moods swing me this way and that
Feel like I'm being thrown to the mat
Over and over again
I get up and then
I ask when
the next hit will strike
and haunt me all night

A few weeks ago, I could feel
Now there's no time
My grief is just a problem to be flicked away
like fuzz on a clean work table
out of place

Who cares about your humanity at work?
Work as an end in itself
As proof of being
When I slow it down I see strange things
Confusion that is never clarified
Wanderers through the daylight responding
to fantasies
Take a moment and breathe
Feel that you already are

There are many things to do
Not much time to be
How did it get this way?
Facetime Facebook happy meetings
feigning enthusiasm for strangers who
are only curiousities
who I don't know and yet spend hours a day with

How did we get this way?
We all have our lives, tucked away, unimportant
As we plow through what is thought of as worthwhile

And I feel like a hamster on a treadmill
Running ever faster
Returning again and again for more
of nowhere

Sometimes you do things that are stupid
And you don't want people to know you did it
And depending on how far you're stuck
It can really feel like way too much
It's kind of like trying to swim in snow
You can move around, but you can't go
It's very uncomfortable and you'll get all wet
But it isn't the dumbest thing anyone has done, not yet

I am no longer capable of saving you
As I did
A small black kitten
covered in the tar of the Mediterranean
In the sands of Haifa, Israel
A cast off jewel, crying out for help
A small bag of fur and bones

You are leaving me now
Pondering the inner landscape of your pain
I can only help ease your transition
I can only assist, try to keep the worst of it
from your experience

Helpless for the first time
I watch you fade away
from the inside out
Bright eyes, smooth black fur
and cancer