"Are you Japanese?" - asked my naive ten year old self
while staring at your waist length satin straight hair
we crammed on your squat wooden seat
screwed to the creaky metal bucket desk
our knees protesting
the lack of space
"No - I am Lithuanian" you said proudly
watching
some blurry film strip
that now blurry early September afternoon
soon after
a slumber party
you sick
leaning over the veranda railing
but still we all stayed
two others squirreled away
with Barbies and what not
and us
curled on the carpet
matching creamsicle robes
telling stories
all through the night
Stories
we would soon stay
up
writing
until the early light
pierced the skies behind the playground
Our slumber
fragile and precious
stolen
by a gravely growl through the grate
to get up
Stories
became
poems
and
hours
became
days
years
Phantom obsessions
became lines
of poetic credit
payments
mailed
with handwritten
laughter
and
promises
We wrote
we lived
our lives
together
with tea, shortbread
and a Tardis
in the corner
keeping us company
We ask
What Would Lucifer Do
and
fetch
inspiration
like
a goat
grazing on paper grass
Two Score
and some change
in our pocket book
and to this day
I am
truly
madly
deeply
grateful
for the goddess
t-bird
'and much as it grieves me to say it
it
it might be that the people I love
is in fact
you
So let's get pissed and watch porn'
I love you too.
ReplyDeleteThat’s an excellent poem even if I weren’t the Goddess.
(I wish my hair looked like that.)