SAME AS THE SAME AS
I guess I thought it would be different here. I’d hold out against playing my old role, reading that old script. I’d have room to be here and we’d be different. And I’m riding in the car and I’m taking communion and I’m staring at this girl’s shoulder blade and I’m gripping my wrists until I’ve got these little grooves from my nails and judging my knee caps and I’m pulling away, sideways, and he’s pushing in, sideways, and I’m looking around at these people and I smile at them and I’m oh, I am so glad to be meeting them and yes, yes, that’s who I am and he is who he is and yes, yes the weather, and smile nod.
And he smells like rot. Like coffee and stomach acid and greasy hair. He smells like slowly being stifled. All three of us, inconspicuous homicide in plain sight. Right here, in the sanctuary with all these people always looking in at me. Just like her… and her. Sometimes I think we’re just the same.
I think I’m wrong now, aren’t I wrong? We’re great. I’m great. This is helpful. I am meant for this. Tomorrow and the next day and forever after that.
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topiarybears said:
i think you might need a vacation up north
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poetfire said:
Powerful stuff. Re-entry. Moments of doubt. Fear. Pain. All over again? Now I think would be a good time to go for a walk with a Grandpa type that listens with care.
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marigoldandmuse posted this
Please be honest, Mary Jane, are you happy?
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