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You could have been my mother
This is more than duck eggs and sleepovers.
This is more than a wide-open yard
And the stories you could tell.
This is more than the yelling
And the wrath.
More than the reputation
You have commercialized into legend.
This is more than your red-faced tears.
This is beyond the apologies made
To people who are not me.
This is more than the daughter
Who slaps you in the face
As just another failure.
This is more than just another failure;
These failures have become episodic.
No longer events to be remembered.
And I thought then
Is my name to be remembered?
Listen you light-hearted crying but tough bitch woman
You could have been my mother.
I chose you that many years ago
Before logic could set in
Before society could bring me in
Before you could reject me
Like you reject anything
Which won’t assure you
Numbness.
Ugly bitch
Tell me about a job well done
Tell me about living in downtown Los Angeles.
Lived in the fucking ghetto.
You saw things you shouldn’t saw
You saw me
And I wondered if you really saw me at all.
I felt you
And was repulsed
By the pain
Which gives pain
The heart
Which dies
Before death can set in.
Next Christmas
I will keep the gifts to myself.
