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
