one of those things, looking
back at childhood, suddenly you
think you understand in a
new way: neighbor lady taken
to the hospital with bandaged
wrists, your mom explains she
cut them with the can
opener, I can’t imagine quite
how this could happen, stored
it away for later pondering
“I’m on the outside, I’m
looking in”* – what I see
is long brown hair, her
body pretty and petite, exotic
name, easy laughter and a
preference for privacy (or was
that mine?) – a geographer by
trade, it means she maps
uncharted territories that take more
than a lifetime to explore
Lyrics: “Outside” by Staind
“Yangtze,” I whispered over his shoulder, then louder, “Yangtze.” Teacher asked the name of the longest river in China; it was his turn.
Now this was blatant cheating but I wanted, just this once, for him, my neighbor, slowest boy in class, to have the joy of getting it right.
first family at the bowling
lanes – he quite the gentleman,
she aggressive, smoky-voiced and
mean, principal at the Indian
school and didn’t take no
crap from kids (or staff)
with wild feathers up their
butts – this was Bill’n Hillary
stability Colville style, with an
exorcism or two as needed
how nice to be how
to be nice how mean
to be how nice it
would be to say bug
off how to say leave
me alone in a nice
way how to say go away
to someone so needy
you’re a damn pest don’t
want to play with you
previous eldest daughter in my
maternal lineage – these rough nuggets,
semi-precious, fallen from a common
matrix, downhill into vaga – bondage,
tumbling, fell:
for unconventional mates,
off the grid’s edge,
out of warm maternal favors;
her redemption found in house
and garden, while all I have
so far is word revenge
relationship consists entirely of
chatting in the street out front,
me coming home from work,
him in fatigues, machete for
the weeds, eyes sharpened for
his neighborhood watch – until his
final illness when I visited
him at home attended by
his daughters, under stained glass,
kissed his grizzled cheek goodbye