My sense of humor was on crack
the day I glued the nickel to the dining room
table. In my baby faced innocence
I thought I could get away with it.
And I almost did, until my sister
walked in, inspecting my work like
(more) a sharp eyed realtor.
"That was dumb," she said
and her snap judgement hit me
and knocked me sidewise.
Then she walked out,
to watch tv or something
leaving me to scrape the glue
and the nickel off the table,
hiding the evidence of my rainy day
boredom, a silly practical joke.
Alas, to my dismay, she shook her head with the very same vigour she'd displayed prior to having completely and utterly destroyed any faith in human beings that I'd managed to salvage following our last little soiree.
"It wa(more)s all I could think to do at the time" the girl insisted, seemingly distracted by the hair she'd managed to knot during a very constructive session of bang twirling. Was there anything she could do that wouldn't irritate me at this point in time? I rather doubted it.
"I'm surprised you were able to think at all" I offered, deadpan as usual, "Given the fact that you were driving at nearly three times the legal limit with a minor unrestrained in the back seat. Not to mention the sirens."
I narrowed my eyes ever-so-slightly, glaring now, for it was all I could do not to up and tear the flesh from my sister's face. The unrestrained minor she'd been driving with was my own - three years and several IVF treatments in the making almost extinguished by what I could only presume was one bottle of wine, a broken condom and a lifetime of regrets on my mother's part.
"I imagine that must have been quite the distraction"
Her lips part, the classic "you don't understand" sigh barely escaping before I find my body moving before I could so much as attempt to restrain myself.
"What the fuck were you thinking Josephine?"
My hand is at her throat and there isn't a part of me that doesn't want to finish her right there on the kitchen floor.
"Are you on crack? Did it just slip your mind that you're supposed to be a functioning member of society? Do you even care? Do you?"(less)
I hate it, my students going around all, "He's on crack," "Omigod, Beth, you on crack?"
But certain kids never joke like that, because they know it's not a joke, it's why DHS came and took you away and now your little brother is living somewhere else and(more) you were supposed to take care of him. Or it's why your mom cried and cried about her brother and then there was the funeral, or not a funeral, there's those trips you all take upstate to visit him in jail, or maybe he's just gone now, you just never see him anymore. Which you're okay with, but your mom misses him something awful--and she says to you, "Tanisha, I know you never knew your uncle Jerome when he was something special but we all thought he would be the one who got out of this place, and now look at him." And she says, "Jerome could've gone to college, that boy could've done all kinds of stuff." And she says, "Jerome should be here with us [Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or the fourth of July]. You kids should've gotten to know him, who he was he was back before." And she says, "That better never be you guys. Don't you ever go near that stuff." And when she used to say this when you were littler, you didn't know exactly what she meant, but you and your brother nodded and shook your heads and said, "No, ma'am, never. That won't be us."
But I've tried explaining that it's not something you just say, and I haven't been able to explain it right. Some kids get it, and some won't--maybe never will, you have to kind of hope they won't ever have to, but then you also want them to know. (less)
I find myself thinking about the next day's morning coffee cup as I finish the present one. Somehow I have built that perfect dawn moment, complete with the kitties swirling around my ankles, the bed wrinkles on my face and finally, a fashion mag I have only begun to(more) leaf through. Four sips in, the caffeine has taken hold and my love of the art found in design begins to pulse in the early light. I never studied the arts and I know next to nothing about what it takes to make a clothing line, but it just doesn't matter. Those few moments when I am utterly and completely selfish are some of my very best moments, on crack. (less)