Thursday, September 30, 2010




A house I lived in, a 1700's parsonage.
In sixth grade falling out the willow tree in the back
on September 30, 1981 at 7:30 pm in my favorite clothes which were later cut off me
& spent a month in the hospital
then six weeks in the bottom left room in this picture
coming home to orange October light I couldn't recognize our street
I spent weeks spying through all the rooms. I found a box of 78's and very old scissors
I borrowed my godfather's gritty crime novels
which I didn't understand. I tried to get the jokes in the daily strips,
to figure out Garfield. I tried to domesticate a cat from the barn
but she would only stay in the crawl space catching mice and didn't need food. I asked for a fox.
I practiced tap dancing in the reflection of a large window
wide plank new england floors. Doctors, lawyers, us.
The barn and all the mangled treasure.
Trying to juggle with my arm in a sling.
My brother wouldn't take off his blue coat, and he got nicknamed blueberry muffin.
I was happy when the bus dropped him off
but he would come home depressed about the jerks at school
and my sister was always angry.
The witchiest new england halloween
I was an alien in green tights and my arm in tin foil
on the dark side road by the strawberry farm.

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