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When you are lying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night
Know that your small fierce dog is there growling softly at imagined intruders
Not realizing that the intruder is the pain in your head
When you are lost, making repeated U turns unable to read the street signs with your light shattering eyes, afraid you may have meningitis again
remember that your best friend and your brother are there on the phone with you, giving you directions
When you are crying in the lobby of the windowless looking black mirrored tower
Be thankful for the words of the security guard who is as dark skinned and kind as the doctor was white and officious (telling you you have an “allergy face” over and over until you finally ask what that is and “they destroyed the insides of your nose” and you may need a year of treatments and didn’t Elizabeth Taylor have great skin? She bathed in olive oil every day. What a fun lady”)
The security guard who said, “Don’t give up, Mam. I can see you have had a hard day. Please, be careful, always. “
When you are at the macrobiotic restaurant with the candles and pink tablecloths the one you used to go with your mommy when she was alive
remember that she is still here while you eat your kabocha squash soup and brown rice and sea vegetables and talk to your friend who wanted to die last month but is better now
Think of all the ones who love you, across lands and oceans, remember they may be sad, too or sick, or lonely. Remind them you are with them.
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unless you’re my editor please don’t edit me

the big yellow tractor is coming
sometimes i dream about it
mowing down the poetry
reciting girls eating birthday cake with purple roses
and drinking lemonade from china doll
sized tea sets
the way memories of bad cocaine and a pink taffeta dress that never fit right
skin blistered with sunburn and a coke head surfer with angelic curls
obliterate the memory of that tall slavic bicyclist
who painted me in his bedroom and then terrified
me with his tender kiss
b/c there was no way i could believe he would ever love me
raggedy-haired and sun burned as i was

you can be friends on facebook with almost anyone though
even if you never exchange a word

what scares me the most is that i have ceased
to believe that love can redeem me
at least not the romantic kind

my son scented grass and dirt and baseball can still fit in my lap
and daughter, making chocolate chip cookies with sturdy hands, folding shirts into perfect piles, straightening her waves of hair like a pro
she’s the reason i survived my mother’s death

that’s what matters.
and it feels better when i write
please don’t edit me
unless i ask Continue reading