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| Wendy's Street #fotobyaladreth |
Wendy's Street
copyright 2014, @aladreth
i dream chromium retrograde,
ladies licking tips of paintbrushes,
testing malina,
which would be the name
of a sprite,
i sit, digress, spellwork,
watch with water,
sober, and i'm not sure
why,
except,
the universe has commanded it
to save a life
i asked him if i saved his; and why did we meet?
~is all i have said and done,
a purpose,
there be a big screen review,
"you did not get sex
because God's plan was only for you to
save the man getting the divorce, but not
for your pleasure...
that night, and the next night and the
next year, all you wanted was sex, what a
selfish, selfish girl."
then peter would point, 'if you only knew
the lives you had saved! by being
celibate!'
oh, fuck off, peter
this runs in just-a-poe to
everything of a goddess,
all nature, magical practice,
me, losing mystical conscience
follow dragonfly eyes
he says to me,
'what you did tonight, cannot be commended
enough'
but then within a minute, i listen to the voicemail
the voicemail
reminds me,
i am a deceiver who will set a place on fire
and hide the evidence of the burn
no matter it be sweet jam or full blown petrol
this 'you are so great' barters with 'you
are a liar'
exchange or hang
go deeper inside
i cover over with my own obsessions,
so it neutralizes,
brings into itself something
of a joke,
a little piece of family,
fatalfamilial? fatafamiliar?
"get in my car"
"sure"
that was easy,
too easy?
no, because she's drunk,
smiling, loud, happy,
someone just paid for her meal...
strangers who look very poor paid, $20.47
so this is the least i can do,
call it an adventure,
just get her out from behind the wheel of her car
where she sits looking, searching for keys,
and laughing
i tell her, lock it up, leave it,
bring your purse,
scattered kleenex,
she offers me alcohol,
once, twice, three times,
water bottles and flasks,
baggies of
stuff,
how much shite can you get in that purse?
but, i apologize for my car being filthy,
worry it may get filthier, she may puke, then realize
she's a professional drinker and will not be ill
i give her words, words of healing
she may remember when sober,
but i doubt it,
what does it really matter?
she's not my wendy,
she's not the wendy,
the wendy that brought us together
with canned pineapple ads,
pretty hair, european magazines
and eyes so deep they caused sleep
disorders
(please don't let the crab make me sick,
i've done a good deed)
i drive back by her silver car,
to tell the place of business
it will be parked there all night
because she was too drunk to drive
they say, 'she only drank half of a margarita'
- i say, i know, you can't control what someone
brings in,
i am no saint
there are no stars in my crown,
even if he says i have earned 'another'
i walk a fine line
i tell her, 'tomorrow is a new day, you
can do whatever you want'
"progress, not perfection" ~ an old hazelden
motto i know from 30 years ago
'do you like music?'
i ask, hoping to change the subject,
which has been the same
with little stories woven into little stories,
"racism is bad,
people smoke weed,
i'm a horrible mother,
i have a warrant out for my arrest,
i'm an alcoholic,
i'm with my daughters grandfather,"
she has said all of it
and more
to the 40 year old little girl, i say
things i want someone to say to me,
'you aren't a bad person,
you are a sick person and you just need
to get well,
if you were a good girl,
you couldn't get good enough.
i know how
half priced margaritas can make you feel,
baby, i do'
fucking brilliant, i say, fucking brilliant,
in my best bad english accent
it's 30 miles of fucked-up-monsoon-road,
she is flirting with him,
telling him she likes quiet men,
they are strength,
telling him she would tear him up,
ride him hard and throw him away wet,
she is
trying
to give me high fives,
but they end up like slushy-half-fish-holds
please, don't you know?
i am worse off than you
look at you ...perfect body
he likes when i say, "look at you" during
those moments that landed that way
"that's the problem with you thiests," he says,
even if i were to tell him the
Queen of the Warrior Angel story -
the only thing i miss of crazy
he would still say it,
as he likes to say,
"your god"
i like to say,
"you're angel"
dontcha know
dontcha
scroll, scroll, saltwater bath
i am jealous,
i am lonely,
i want to scream at that woman,
he says he feels sorry for...
SEEN
SEEN
SEEN
I FUCKING (have) SEEN!
but, i know the truth,
really, i do
this whole time, i'm wondering, do you know the truth?
do you know who i am?
what i am?
you don't treat me like you do.
i roll the window down for her,
"look at that sunset, wendy"
later, as she gets out of the car, lock, unlock, stumble, boots, rocks, stumble, chain, lock, unlock, trip,
"hey, girl, i'll call you tomorrow,"
wendy, you don't even have my phone number.
you don't even have my name.
