Another Short One For the Holiday

1.
Blue sky was too big, too hot and too clear.
Dry and silent, trees brown, hills looking sick.

Raven flew overhead, warning me out.
I am green and humid. Cement and brick.

Haven’t been Hippie since ‘71,
And I'm too old to get back on that whirl.

Newark Liberty is my hometown port.
No one else has to love this Jersey girl.

Back! Boom! Back in the New York Groove, Sweetheart.
I left my heart, so I don’t need to feel.

You really don’t need a heart in the East.
Just a sense of humor and guts of steel.

2.
It is pointless to fight with a ghost.
Shape-shifting and obfuscating.
It takes any form it wants until
We finally see it clearly.
Then, it turns into a shooting star,
And disappears.

How Can I Forget You When You’re Hanging on my Wall?

I said “I love you” in 1986
And never again till 2010.
So, cut me a break, guys.
I don’t do it lightly, all right?
You’re safe.
I’m not looking for anything
With a dick.
I’m not looking for anything
Forever.

Lost in phone calls among Banks and Investments,
Dentists and doctors and medical suppliers.
And the computers, in rebellion, fuck it all up.

Weary.
Weary.
Weary.

All of our social progress erased.
So much information
Makes us dumber than dirt.

I cannot wrap my mind around
A tooth threatening my life.
The tooth gets all my money
I wish the Air Conditioner would understand.
But, nooooooo.

Gimme a “W”!
Gimme a “H”!
Gimme a “A”!
Gimme a “T”!
What’s that spell?

Just when I start to lose weight,
I have to get two teeth fixed
And am forced to eat ice cream.

A friend got the mad idea
To have all of his friends friend me.
I am suddenly buried in roses.
I will have to upgrade my system
To properly enjoy their scent.

I refuse to be a self-destructive genius
Once I get the genius part figured out.

How can I forget you
When you’re hanging on my wall?

Three random free verses in no particular order

1.
Brownish red
To blonde
To red
To brownish red
To gray.

Here I am.

Dying it
Would make me
An old lady
With dyed hair.

But it is a “good” gray
I am told.

Would that they
Would say
That it’s
A “good” wrinkle,
Or a “good” sag?

No such luck.

2.
Once you step upon a stage or a screen,
Are you ever the boy or girl next door?

I’ve done a voiceover or two, have you?
And seen actors speak my words on a stage.

It is hard when it’s over forever.
Hard to grow up and be a mere mortal.

Surrounded by the beautiful people
In New York or L.A., we were so young.

Thin and firm and dark of hair and laughing.
Back in the day when life and money glowed.

The Peace marches stopped. Consumption began.
And we didn’t need children or a home.

We forgot to get the kids and the home.
And now, it’s too late, and too difficult.

Frozen in a rebel pose, we play at art.
Not selling a seat nor earning the nut.

And yet, and yet, and yet, we cannot stop.
And yet, and yet, and yet, it’s who we are.

3.
Million dollar question.
Has anyone ever daydreamed of me?

Anyone?
Anyone?
Buehler?

Were my eyes or my hands or my hair,
The subtle signal that op’d the poets maw?
No. Quite the opposite, I fear.

Miss Supernerd!

My ego may crave such adoration
But when a man pines and daydreams
It ain’t about an intellectual with sagging tits.

Swimsuit model!

Giving up my fantasies and daydreams
Are harder than booze or drugs because
They’re free in my head.

And just as bad.

I was the rescuer, dragging my poor husbands
Up and down the East Coast
Trying to make them into something,

Out of their reach.

But only men that no woman wanted
The totally broken and insane and
Hopeless were easily available to me.

Or so I thought.

DId I sustain myself and soothe my soul
With daydreams of stronger strangers while
Saying “I love you” to the resident losers?

You bet your ass.

And if the loser suddenly realized and blossomed,
Became a man and earned his keep
You know what the rescuing lady would discover?

His Fantasies

Are Not

About Her.

Teeth, Tornados, and Art

Something’s wrong with the root canal today.
A mere dentist couldn’t. Specialist time.
It’s assumed I can afford it. Yeah, right.

Not allowed to demand an extraction.

Folks in Missouri and Oklahoma
Losing everything, including life.
Add Alabama. It’s too much to bear.

No house. No job. No clothes. No food. Just hope.

I want to run and help and fix it all.
But Art is active in the mind and hand.
We can’t leave printer and easel behind.

We sit on our butts and just ruminate.

What do I play, what do I write, or draw?
Not now. Maybe later. We can raise funds.
And maybe consciousness, little else.

Not even famous, for what that is worth.

And like the failed Rapture, we wonder why
We are here and where we are going.
And if maybe an intact set of teeth....

Are the best possible goal of  a Life.

Life is Lived Off Line

You don’t eat or sleep or defecate here.
Or do you do that with this in your lap?
I love you guys, but I need real people.

No fantasies.

Sit in the dark and quiet and listen.
Don’t be afraid of being alone or
You you will surely attract the monsters.

Trust me. I know.

The silence is a killer and a lie.
Don’t wonder why people marry and breed.
It’s for noise and good things to fill  the mind.

Laughter and joy.

My writing fails because I do not speak.
My writing fails because I do not hear.
My writing fails because I am not real.

Don’t excuse me!

My illness is manageable. I move.
My age has nothing to do with living.
I survived for sixty years on daydreams.

I get it now.

This is the dream machine, where all is true.
For free, with no obligations or dirt.
Providing you never meet in real life.

Which breaks the rules.

Because real life shows that you were wrong.
The computer says all and nothing at all.
No scent, no touch, no muss, no fuss, no life.

Two dimensions.

Screw chat rooms, comments, and telephone sex.
You cannot love someone you never met.
It’s time to hit the bricks and smell the air.

Eye to eye.

Voice to voice.

Hand in hand.

A Tribute to Learning to be Friends With Men

Real men have partners and wives and ex-wives and children and jobs. Better still, they have careers, and if not rich, are in control. Lately, I am eager to hear about their offspring and hobbies. Where do you volunteer and whom do you help? And if you’re in a crisis, give me the details and tell me how you’re handling it. We’ve all been there.

I’ve spent too many years with my head in the clouds and in my crotch. Now that it’s finally over and I have to age gracefully, I am enjoying the simple realization that men and women can be different and not be enemies. Maybe because I’ve been there (except the children), it is a relief and a joy to find the ways that we are alike.

Sexuality can be off-putting and a wall between men and women. Perhaps that I’m getting “too old” for it, I can start relaxing and talk, human-to-human. The nice part about not being in the dating world is that you don’t have to be involved in the tensions. I really, truly, hope you are getting all you want and I really, truly, don’t want to hear about it.

There is the off chance that I have sex again, but I don’t want to talk about it. To talk about it is insecure and neurotic. And a bit of showing off and for God’s sake, it’s just sex. Billions of people for billions of years and rumor has it, it makes children. Many things in life feel good and if that is your only thrill, you should seek counseling immediately.

The world is collapsing. The economy is in ruins. Good young men are off in three wars are dying for their country. The elderly, poor, and sick are being marched off to die because we don’t want to tax the rich. Firemen and policemen and teachers are being laid off because we don’t want to tax the rich. And the rich are too dumb to figure out that if we have no money to spend, they will not longer be rich. We obviously need those teachers.

In the last few months, I’m discovering the value of my male friends simply as friends and advisors. What can I say? The boys have given me balls for the first time in my life. You need someone who can say, “Tell him to stick it up his ass.” and that’s seldom done by a lady.

3 More Poems de Terre May 20, 2011

#1 Sitting in the Dark, Never in Perfect Quiet

Cars accelerate up the hill
And a jet flies overhead.

The low rumble of somebody’s television
Tickles the apartment walls.

Cicadas, or are they tiny frogs
Warming up for the summer song.

Not on the internet, the computer clicks
And whirrs softly, showing its age.

Someone on the street laughs out loud
For real this time, not LOL.

I joined the dating service two weeks ago
And haven’t the nerve to look inside.

I’m tired of men and tired of Love.
Make me a cowboy camping under stars.

I’m tired of politics and world collapse
Tired of selfishness and stupidity.

And most of all....
I’m tired of me.


#2 Borderline

Borderline.
Is hardest to fix.
A day of anger
Followed by love.

Borderline.
I can’t. I can’t.
I can’t.
Do this anymore.

Borderline
Is caused by pain
Inflicted on a child
Held deep inside.

Borderline.
I see your face.
And say nothing.
As it fades.

Borderline
You know I lie.
Because the truth
Would stop our hearts.

3. I Want Another Ticket for this Ride

But if there’s reincarnation,
Let me remember what I know.
Don’t think that I will get it right
Restarted with a virgin’s glow.

Or will we be in  a Heaven
Where women have no need of men?
Does that mean an endless orgasm,
Or the crotch of a plastic Ken?

But
But
But

What if the world’s a nightmare
Of pollution, hunger and war,
With Republicans in control?
Would I want to open the door?

For a chance to be young and hot
And slender, with red hair and knockers.
Drinking and dancing with no cares
Kissing sweet artists and rockers.

But
But
But

Will I know how to avoid pain?
Will I know not to grab at straws
Whom no other woman would want.
Just to have a male in my paws?

And what if I were reborn male?
The stalking woman, the liar,
Or worse, one faking “accidents”,
Dragging babies into the fire.

Yes
Yes
Yes

I’ll take all the chances, if given.
I want to have a youthful heart.
I want to run and dance and jump.
A thinker, but a bit of a tart.

It will not happen, I’m stuck here
A limping, sagging, fat old mess.
With no memories but ashes,
No sins, just wishes to confess.

Bad Poetry Day in the Rites--Practicing Rhymes

We’ve been wasting our time speaking of Love,
While the World dissolves into tiny shards.

The Pure and the Vile, the Hawk and the Dove.
Economies falling like houses of cards.

We’re too old, too sick and too poor for this.
We’ll be in our graves before we get real.

Every child in the World needs a kiss.
And clothes, and shelter and a decent meal.

Who cares if we never again have sex,
If people are sick and dying in pain?

Our bellies are sagging. So are our necks.
In the meantime, Satan hijacked the train.

I’m surrounded by people, not alone.
Biggest U.S. city just down the hill.

You’ve hidden yourself from all but the phone.
To lick your wounds in a broken-down mill.

There’s no glee in your sorry state of loss.
No winner either in this stupid game.

Stay there and contemplate your  wooden cross
Pray for redemption from a life of blame.

I’ve got books to read and poems to write.
I’ve got friends to love and a world to see.

This weird old lady has a stronger light.
Money and time to get where I should be.

It’s freeing to know you don’t read my buzz.
I don’t really care if anyone did.

‘Cause if I die as one who never was.
It’s better than being a has been, Kid.

The Madeleine Albright Conundrum

I have just invented the Madeleine Albright Conundrum. A powerful man is forever sexual. A powerful woman is neutered after the age of fifty.

Women are the majority, and yet, we have less power. Is it really about the testosterone and the stronger body? Is it only that we are weaker when we are pregnant? Is it only about animals and how, in Nature, the female is hunted down and mounted? “She has wide hips, Oop. She will bear many sons!” (Always sons.) Silly of me to ask about her brains and personality. But, if the situation were reversed, and there were a thousand men available for every woman, wouldn’t we want the younger male? Or would we be in so much danger of kidnapping and rape that we would never leave the house? Maybe that’s why Nature made more of us...to keep them calm and satisfied. I just have faith that she wants us to be equals; hunter and gatherer, a team.

I don’t know what it is to be a man and have a body full of testosterone with all those ancient jungle drums addling my brain at the sight of fertile female breasts and legs. Post Menopausal women are freed of this stupidity. Our minds are clearer, although I do feel a certain glow go through my body at the sight of one man’s eyes or another’s hands. But since my body is now old, it is considered nauseating to speak of it. James Woods is not quite old enough for his lusting for twenty-year-olds to be disgusting. Hugh Hefner is, but we tell ourselves that we know that those girls are simply decorative and never shtup the Cryptkeeper. Still, it would be all right if they did, because they are permitted.

Betty White is not, but she earns a paycheck by joking about sex, knowing that we laugh at the absurdity of her being sexual.  A man is admired for buying a younger spouse and a woman is pitied for it.  And yet, one of the best parts of being an older woman is that you don’t have to make jokes about yourself. I’m not tortured by sexual feelings. I don’t gaze at younger men. Women are able to turn sex on and off and be appropriate. It doesn’t keep us up at night. We are free. But if  I was enamored of a man, I am well skilled in giving and receiving pleasure. I just have to lose enough weight to get him to care. My brains and personality would not be a factor in this. And to be honest, nor would his be to me.

Or is the problem our commercial society? How much business and profit would be lost if women didn’t wear makeup or jewelry? If we didn’t (giggle) HAVE to have a hundred pairs of shoes? (You know I don’t.) Does the pink and fluffy princess materials pushed on little girls reflect a reality or create it? If they never saw it, would they want it?  The lace and makeup question is perhaps the most complicated one of all. Using them never makes you less equal,  but neither does not using them. Is an attractive woman more “Equal” to a man than an unattractive one? Sex, to me, is naked and fresh out of the shower. More like the jungle conquest than the ones in “Sex and The City.” But with the lace and makeup, is it real or an addiction promulgated by commercials. This is the hardest question of all.

I won’t live to see complete equality or complete peace between the sexes. I fear  that if the economy gets worse, women might become expendable. It’s obvious that in third world countries, that they are fighting to keep women as chattel and second class citizens. The men eat first. Religions try to make sexism into a tenet. Politicians try to control women’s health and reproductive rights. You never see them trying to pass laws affecting men’s health and productive rights. This is why prostitution is a leading career in Washington.

The most important thing is protecting the young and making it better for them. And what we have to do is stop. Stop deferring to men. Stop lying to men. Stop pleasing men. It doesn’t work after a certain age and every time you sacrifice your equality, you sacrifice the equality of your daughters, nieces, and students.

The 100th ReinhardRites...Celebrating Freedom

In 1970, my young America defined “Freedom” as “Sex, Drugs, and Rock ‘n Roll.” It wasn’t long before we realized that the ensuing HIV outbreak, drug and alcohol addictions, and hearing losses depleted our Freedom instead of extending it. It was then that we discovered that “Freedom” can also mean dealing with a chronic disease, breaking the addiction, or buying a hearing aid. “Freedom” was not, as our forefathers told us, easy to achieve.

As an obsessive/compulsive, I have just metaphorically slammed my out-of-control emotional car into a wall to stop the forward careen into insanity. This goes right to the subtleties of that simple, overused word. You have the freedom to do anything positive you want and unfortunately, the freedom to self-destruct. You do not, as many people think, have the right to take anyone with you, but that’s another essay.

I’ve been free of a job for 25 months now...exactly.  The first four months were fairly nerve-wracking as I only had Pension income and then I got onto Disability pretty fast, at 4 months. I am free because I am attached to the Government, who reads all my e-mails and postings to make sure I still deserve Disability. I do. I could earn up to $1,000 more a month, but I don’t have the energy. I may have to figure out how to do it eventually, but not now. Free all day. All damned long, long day.  I am free of children. OK, so I don't have to bail anyone out or pay for college, but I know that I missed a lot of joy and love. But, I was free to look at my husbands and realize it would not be a good idea to bring a kid into those marriages.  I freely chose. (And Ethan and Molly, it was the right decision for you two. The girls are great.)

I’ve been free of men for 18 years, mostly because none of them wanted me. But, then, I was free to consciously take a 10 year break. Last year, I freely chose to go sniffing around the male genetic pool again and discovered that...they still freely don’t want me, but that means I get to keep all the money. NYAH! NYAH! And when I’m settled on Medicare in October, I can move pretty much wherever I want in the United States. Of course, with Multiple Sclerosis, I’m not going to be a real big explorer and adventurer of wherever I land.

William Wallace’s dying breath at the end of “Braveheart” was used to scream: “Freedom!” We would like to think that we would then take up the banner and march onward toward a better world where we were enfranchised and empowered. Buildings powered by the sun. Healthy children eating Granola and all races equal and happy. But not long after that movie came out, a Right Wing probably dear to Mr. Gibson’s conservative heart, started to whine that the Freedom of others was encroaching on their Freedom and that the number one concern should be the majority. Of course, they didn’t realize that whites are NOT, thank God,  the majority in the world. One of the reasons that Conservatives are attacking education is that they need a malleable, dimwitted electorate to get power. Education teaches Freedom and that makes Education an enemy to be destroyed. It is easier for them to be in power if they can pervert the meaning of words like Freedom toward they own ends which is purely, simply, self-profit and nothing else.

With the collapse of the economy and the stunning raise in Medical costs encouraged by a corrupt Government, so much of Freedom depends on having money. For those who ran up their credit card debt, laughing that they would worry about it tomorrow...tomorrow came. Thank God for the Freedom that bankruptcy can give you...providing you understand that you will not get a loan or a credit card for a long, LONG, time. You will not be free to choose whatever you want, only what you can afford. And remember, before you join the Banking industry, that to be a thief is to rob others of their Freedom.

Many religions say that we have Free will and can choose to live forever serenely in Heaven or burn for eternity in Hell. Gee, guys! I wonder what the smart choice would be? I wonder if you are actually giving us a choice or loading the deck. Excuse me if I stay Unitarian and don’t let anyone try to manipulate me for a ticket to eternal life. The nanosecond anyone says you can get to Paradise if you give them money...RUN! Make the Free choice and run. But then, if you have been “properly educated” to be mindless, you can freely choose to follow these people. Just don’t try to take away the freedom of other religions.

Freedom has a price. “Give me Liberty or give me Death.” As the protesters in Africa and Arabia are currently discovering, that’s pretty much the choice. Part of me wants to sit here safely in my arm chair, sipping cocoa and part of me wants to be the gentleman standing in front of the tank in Bejing. He had a bag of groceries and was probably a common worker heading home to cook dinner. The moment arose where he could become great, a nameless icon for humanity for generations to come and DAMN! He stepped firmly into his place in history without a thought. He might have had regrets later, in prison, but he knew the cameras were clicking and the whole word was watching. He saw the figure of History, in her golden armor, holding her sword of truth high and realized that he had been chosen to do this and freely chose to stand for his beliefs. Thank you, Master, for  your lesson.

Sorry to have gone on so long, but I’ve just scratched the surface of the topic of “Freedom.” Think about it tonight.

99 ReinhardRites on the Wall 99 ReinhardRites

As we prepare for the festive 100th posting, some observations:

Use me. Abuse me.
Ignore me. Adore me.
But don’t ever try
To censor me.

Life is basically boring,
So we create challenges.
Which may be cause of children.

Toxic relationships are not one way streets.
Eventually, everyone loses their mind.

The old saying,
“Repeatedly doing something that doesn’t work  is a sign of insanity.”
Is quite true, but it doesn’t stop anyone from trying one more time.

Sometimes the only way
To stop obsessive compulsion
Is to run the car into a wall.
Hard.

Who put the bop in the bop sha bop sha bop?
Don’t look at me!

The Unitarian Nun Finally Gets It

Old joke. “Why do they call them nuns?”
Answer: “Because they aren’t getting any.”

Let’s be honest, I’m old and I am fat,
And it’s about time I accepted facts.
I can lose the weight, but the skin loosens
Without lard to fill the cracks and sags.

I get it.

You can’t win this game, Woman, stop playing.
This mad world dissolves into poverty.
People without food or housing will die.
Or decay into genocide or worse.

I get it.

To Hell with whining about getting laid.
We have to worry about being fed.
We have to worry about having a bed.
And a damn fucking roof over our head.

I get it.

We’ve been distracted by toys and money.
“Real Housewives” roll in the mud for our joy.
Go into debt for the old buy and buy.
And if you are starving, sell your daughter.

I get it.

Nature drives all men to fertility.
The hunter brings meat to the gatherer.
A failure is not “good enough” for me
I am not “good enough” for a success.

I get it.

And now, we must use the brains and the skills.
And retire the butt and the boobs for life.
Men at last look in my eyes as I talk.
Is it respect or revulsion I see?

I get it.

Woody Allen: “The heart wants what it wants.”
Or more bluntly, “The dick wants what it wants.”
Dick will use money to achieve his goal.
Million for a wife. Sandwich for a whore.

I get it. And it scares the Hell out of me.

Upon returning to drawing and painting after 40 years

Diving Into Real Colors

We writers are told a million times
To understand the colors of the word.

Fiery cries are red and love is blue.
Shakespeare is a dazzling tropical bird.

Here I am with crayons and acrylics.
Red and blue and green and variations.

Watercolors and pencils to create
The spectrum and its wondrous striations.

That I must not lead, but follow the line
Until it finds its own end is still true.

I will start simply. In the student mind.
Humbly accepting that the Master is:

You.

In the Middle of an MS Relapse

The usual Springtime allergies are worse than usual and the immune system kicked in, causing the MS to act up. I woke up to go to the bathroom at 3 a.m. and had to get there hopping on one foot as the left had no feeling and was collapsing.

I managed to get some laundry done and took the four-footed cane to the market for a milk run, but the left foot was causing me troubles. And worst of all, I’m feeling really bitchy. The glare of the computer screen hurts my eyes and I don’t want to see any damned inspiring posts right now.

No political discussions, no insights or imaginings. Even silent, it’s too noisy for my ears. I really don’t want to be around human beings when I’m holding onto the wall. Two doctors reminders arrived today and I don’t really care. I just want to lay down, not even eat. Don’t care about love and sex for once. Sometimes, it’s not really be stuff of life.

The wedding vow is “in sickness and in health.” I wonder if any of these men I had wasted time on would have stayed around for this? I am stunned that there are so many men that do, that there are so many women who are worth it. Have I ever been worth it? Not one of my men loved me and were proud to say so. How am I strong enough to do this alone?

Maybe because it’s easier this way...at least for me.

The Earth is Five Million Years Old

dAnd here we are, worrying about our Art
Or Romance, that nature meant as mating
Forever, due to instinct, not by vows.

Hunters and gatherers and survivors.
A career chosen by necessity.
Every child unplanned and death sudden.

Mankind born in Africa as one race.
Skin color changed in response to the sun
No God judgment, or good or bad, just skin.

Plagues, earthquakes, volcanoes and hunger
And life often ended by thirty years
Was just what was, not a statement of worth.

I am not special, I am just a human
Who happens to write and paint and sculpture.
Once the one who told stories by the fire.

That’s my job, you hunt, you gather, I gab.
He paints amazing pictures in the cave.
Another dances away our illness.

Remind us again that we are equal
And do not deserve jewels or favors.
Just the same pot and pallet and warm fur.

As all the same survivors of this world.

Humility is Essential to Survival

I thought I knew the facts until I saw a photograph
That made me realize that I had no damned idea.

It spun my brain around and stopped that nasty train of thought
In its forward track with a screech of metal on metal.

Sometimes it’s not about me and about something bigger
With a history I can’t know or comprehend or fix.

Less intelligent, less creative, less educated.
I must learn to bow to the master and listen harder.

I must carry the buckets of water till I drop
And let the children drink deep of it first, before me.

I must accept the past as unchangeable and frozen
And sit in the silent dark a few hours to create.

We are the simple servants of our arts, not their masters.
Forgive the old lady, Sensei, I am learning so late.

My job is simple, to watch your flight and remember it.
And when I put my pen to paper, recreate the picture.

That does not come from me but from the Earth and sky above.
It is a gift and a trust that I must humbly treasure.

And we must  part forever, walking side-by-side and alone.
Greater and lesser than the sum of the parts, but alive.

Bin Laden Made Us Slit Our Own Throats

One of the purposes of the 9/11 attacks was to cause Americans to panic and start self-defeating and damned if we didn’t. We elected Republicans. We let them go to war and stop taxing the rich and let the banks and medical industry run rampant until they ran the entire international economy into the grounds and until we accept and deal with this, he wins.

He wins whenever we embrace a racist belief like Birtherism or the Tea Party. You are not fooling us, folks. You are saying no black man, no matter he is one of the most intelligent and charismatic leaders on EARTH could be the American President. Despite the fact that whites will be the minority in 40 years, we want to take the country back from THEM. He wins whenever we attack teachers and education in the hopes of making a totally stupid electorate instead of the partially stupid one we have now. And if you didn’t vote out of laziness or thinking you were making a point, you are not stupid, you are a moron.

So, before you grab hold of this death and dance around joyously...stop and give a prayer to...WHOEVER. To something beyond the blood and sand. Think before you act. Get vengeance out of your heart and replace it with Justice. Now, we can stop the war in Afghanistan. Now, we can get out of Iraq and Libya. We killed the symbol of evil and since the wars were mostly symbolic, get out and start spending the money on taking care of us.

The mess we made is going to take years and billions to clean up. If we don’t keep slitting our own throats, we might at least save the world for our children. And if you don’t care about the world your children inherit...congratulations! You’ve just made Osama victorious again.

Poems du Terre Trois-- Oui Ma Francais Est Merde

I
Baby, baby, oh, baby!
I gotta do this alone.
Phew! O.K.
Just a second.
No husband.
Lousy mother.
Good sister, far away.
I’m not a good friend.
I’m learning late.
Trying hard.
Treading water.
With Multiple Sclerosis.
But I gotta do this.
And I gotta do it alone.
O.K.!
Whattaya need?

II
Honey, stop talking about it already.
Can I tell you? You didn’t invent it.
Neither did we, but we improved it.
Your generation f*cked it up,
Excuse my French, but you did.

Look. We was there first, we was.
Oh, man! I remember I had to go
Clear to the other side of town,
To the East Side, for Christ’sake
For The Pill, in 1969.

I dunno, maybe we made it too easy.
But hippie boys wanted to do it right.
Oh, we wore out that “Joy of Sex” book.
Went from page to page and lemme tell you.
Our boys cared that the girls were happy.

Then, five or ten years later, you guys.
Used to it from Junior High...too young.
You didn’t even know what it was
Except that it felt good and the girls!
Why did you stop asking for your share?

I was a Cougar for about six years
But I gave it up because the guys,
Didn’t know what the Hell to do.
I shoulda kept the G*d-d*med book.
Kept the book and gave out lessons.

III
Let me think.
No, I’m sorry.
I don’t remember the details
Of your life.
It’s too sad.
Actually.
To contemplate on a May day.
You blew it.
It’s all your fault.
Maybe not.
I really don’t care anymore.
Keep looking
For  someone else.
To drag in.
Oh, King of melodramatic pain.
I’m long gone.
On my own road.
Free at last.

IV
The young ones spoke in Church today.
Beginning their journey of spirit.
So confident, headed on their way
With parents and mentors to help.

I try to laugh at the optimism
But somehow they touch my heart
I want to believe their faith and vision
And see that we can make it good.

There is money here, and family.
Never struck, never starved, no need
And yet, in them, leadership I see.
Please, Dear God, let it be. Amen.