There Remains One Story

There Remains One Story
I Have Never Told
Not Even To Myself


@aladreth
Copyright 1999-2015

Pass the Salt
For Princesses and Planets
to Eat the Rich
and pickle the wounds
of unruly slaves

I'm telling you,
The big juicy part of my life is
-O-V-E-R-

I no longer fill this space
I'm about to walk through
for the last time.

Some of the doors
I remember
shut in pain
slammed in anger;

might as well
block these doorways
with thick scarlet museum velvet ropes.

In one fantasy ...
I lived in an Oakland Loft
scent of night blooming jasmine,
cigar smoke, rum, and perfume,
practicing ritualistic Island Tea Dances
constantly wiping off dirt
from tumbles.

In another fantasy ...
I sip latte in a corner cafe with Drag Queen Tramps
locked in Riots
over Wonder Bras and fuschia lipsticks
before taking the ferry
(where I casually cross and uncross my legs to expose black lace panties)
to San Francisco,
pulsing cool breeze rustling my garden artichokes
along ivy covered stuffed clay
held in place by lead channels.
A Melange of Wet Music plays in the distance
Neither Spanish
Nor African
but a unique synthesis of "How Do You Repay A Killer?"
or "God Rest You Merry Gentleman"
(you pick the Season)

In the final act
before my death
on an October Rainstorm Night
I fall asleep behind soda green shutters
to waves crashing against the sea wall,
marble floor
over ocean beach Babble
and I tell My Daughter,
"all this will be yours when I'm gone"
and she says,
"When do you think you might go?"

See, kids? God does answer prayer!

See, kids? God does answer prayer!
(a fairy tale of sorts) rated R, must be 17,
or accompanied by an adult to read

"did this poem make it to twitter, perchance?" ~ stolen words

@aladreth ©2015

she has moved
from "that's just her,"
and "she means well,"
to, "stop that shit right now!"

i must forgive her,
pretend she is a wise virgin,
her oil lamp filled
waiting for the master,
a sweet slate ready for writing

she's a world class hustler,
maybe i envy that trait in her,
maybe that is why her outbursts
anger me so

but, i must forgive her,
pretend she is doing her best,
the best she can

her father was a magician,
believed he could move things
with his mind.
he went as far as to thinking
he could stop inevitable events

so, one day he poured gasoline
in the house, struck a match,
sat and 'willed'
the flames to stop

somehow, she saved her siblings.

her dad went to a mental hospital
(five times)

from him, she learned
the easiest way to get out
of going to jail was to pretend god
talked to you,

so she visited mental hospitals herself,
always thought it was a blessing
in disguise -
hospitals were nicer than jail

later on, i don't know how,
she had kids of her own,
took in their friends too

she met steve jobs several times,
he gave her huge tips at applebee's...
he liked her jokes and her ideas
(i'm not going to tell you
he used any of them)

she barely survived being a waitress
because she was more of a clown
than a server

one day it happened, (again)
money was gone
and everyone needed underwear.

to take their minds off their troubles,
she played silly games like her dad had played,
without the gasoline, of course...
pretended for the kids she was moving things
with her mind,
pretended she caused the rain to come
by playing drums and chanting
pretended she could talk to aliens and ghosts

"let's pray to god for our underwear," she said.

they gathered in a circle and held hands,
they swayed, started a slow dance,
around and around and around.

"dear, god, help my kids to believe in you.
we need underwear."

"dear, god, help my kids to believe in you.
we need underwear."

"dear, god, help my kids to believe in you.
we need underwear."

let's just believe,
all of us now,
together,
god answers prayers

she got on her bicycle and flew down the street,
there was a vietnamese woman closing down shoppe,
throwing out a big black garbage bag of stuff...
"what is that you are doing?" she asked,
and the small lady answered,
"throwing out these panties from the store i'm shutting."

"oh!" and joy filled her heart and mind,
"please, may i buy them at a discounted price?"
thinking she'd show her kids there was a god.

but, the lady said, "no, i can't sell them, but here,
take them for free."

praise god, there is a god

off, she went balancing a huge black bag
of panties
on her bike

(this may sound like a fairy tale.
i'm sure there are secret parts
we never tell to others,
but be sure to ask your boyfriend
how his last relationship really ended.
i promise you, it's very important.)

back home again,
she ripped the bag open with glee,
underwear falling everywhere, shouting,
"see, kids, god does answer prayer!"