My Girl

Some days you'd think we were feral alley cats attempting to prove who's in charge....and you'd be right. We don't disagree. We embark in long, drawn-out battles where feelings get hurt (mine), names are called (at me), and tears are shed (mine).

Other days you'd think we're best friends who grew up together....and again, you'd be right. I was 18 when I found out I was pregnant, and 19 when I gave birth. While my friends were sucking down beer at keg parties in college, my child was sucking down milk in marathon breast-feeding sessions. We grew together; both of us children on a journey to figure each other out.

Our agreement is this: "I want you to know that you can come to me and tell me anything. I may at times be angry, dissapointed or confused, but I always want you to tell me. And always remember, as close as we are as friends, I am your mother first." Granted, she's only 8, but we stick to it pretty well. We have an extremely honest relationship, sometimes by force.

She is my girl.

I love her endlessly.

A Story of Polka Dots and Silly Shoes

The trail of smoke lingered from your mouth as you studied mine with such a fierce intent that my knee began to shake.

Under your stare I felt like art; a revered piece of work finally appreciated for all its flaws and awkward brushstrokes.

You extended your hand using your fingers to trace the shape of my arm - circling my wrist - finally resting in my unsteady palm.

Your overwhelming strong skin against my own frail tapestry.

Across the table, I was mesmerized by the slight curl in your smile - the smirk you set free when your thoughts have admittedly run rampant.

You found the way I hold my wine glass amusing and I was suddenly envious of your cigarette; cradled tightly and pressed against your lips.

Amen

In the hollow echo of your church,
I was baptized in the moonlight
casting shadows on the wall.

You stood in front of your altar
and bowed your head.

Whispering in my ear, you said, "Confess."

With your hands firm on my shoulders,
you pushed me to my knees.

I silently prayed for forgiveness.......
I am a sinner

Nip/Tuck

With surgeons precision,
you somehow carved away
the best parts of me.

No relief in sight - I felt every move

There is no recovery from hands like yours -
a chronic illness
permanent infection
plague of the heart
you're a disease

Under the guise of magic
I couldn't believe my eyes
as I stood there dumbfounded
to your dissapearing act:
"But he was...just here."
Elementary smoke and mirrors -
pulling a knife like a nickel behind my ear,
finding a new home in my gut.

No appetite, no desire.
Except for this blood-thirst for personal destruction.

I have been a proverbial queen,
a superhero to shit like this.
Still I can't save myself this time.

I have even given life
but one word from you
and the breath escapes me -
knocked to my knees by a passing sigh.

You make me feel like dying
It's beyond picking scabs,
I'm fucking with scars.

My Mother's Bubble Baths

When I was little, my mom used to take scolding hot bubble baths for what seemed like hours. I always wondered what the hell she did in there all that time. So as I got older, I would bring her a little glass of Amaretto, hoping to possibly catch her turned into an alien or wolf.

Alas, she was just an overworked mother, trying to steal whatever time she could to herself.

Now as the mother of an 8 year old myself, I found myself in a scolding hot bubblebath last night, enjoying the silence and solitude. Except replace the Amaretto with Vodka. I finally understood why my mother stayed in there so long, and I planned to do the same. I was willing to turn into a human raisin at that point.

All I could do was smile.