the more you approach your destination

the more you disappear

re-encroach upon a past

you just can’t slip

no matter

how many

re-invent yourself seminars put you on

a rebate mailing list

Because, let’s face it, you somehow became more of an artist than a commodity, along the way, and it’s a slippery slope defining where the field lies ahead

like brother fighting brother over

taxes, cotton, ports, warehouses, stevedore’s leaving bastards behind who hid in their workshops

while a long-suffering woman

bends over a hot stove

for so many years

she ends up disappearing

into the smoke

from sugar cookies

right before the sugar burns

and it gets too crisp

Just like that, that’s how I’d like to see my Mimi, infusing sugar cookies, that scent that spreads

through a loving kitchen

where the food always heals

and the wood stove in the winter or screen doors in the summer

bring in the thankfulness to have some years

away from the grind that was

The Nickel Company

and his protege

just adopted the sense of disappointment

and failure

I never want to embrace

much less go near

just not an option

don’t know where I got that from, but it is all mine, I know that

must be genetic, like blood type still not sure RH neg or B pos

brown eyes, brown hair, golden tan, ivory tone, rose good on cheeks, charcoal smokey eyes, no 80s blue or purple

But I don’t necessarily want to attract attention

that was a thing

long ago adapted to as a coping mechanism

deconstruct that, would like to just turn it into art, and touch a nerve where someone else

is able to relate