He encouraged me to be strong and sturdy and I became that for a while
Was able to walk many miles up hill for hours and never want to smoke a cigarette.
We came to talk about family one day and I was hoping and thinking all of this,
all of this work was going to have its big payday.
I was finally what they wanted: Trimmed hair.
Strong belly. Clear mind.
Meeting the cohorts and gemmed ladies, and feminine men...we sat in a room...
Watching the picture show, bore through with holes, melted circular browning spaces.
I could start to feel that day the chiseled space he manualy dug into my side.
They are angry because all I have left to say happy is...
8 hours of of snowfall, picture windows, certain yogic positions. And the legacy of weaving.
I know the tonality of his voice, I remember the day, I opened up my purple box on that high shelf next to my tiny refrigerator that had dust on it: My cave lit with fluroescence, the heater broken before I ever owned a cell phone. The expense of long distance...AT&T.
On the other end of that phone line someone, he, telling me my months were wrong, my body was confused and my heart works right in some other universe.
Thats when I started buying fragile objects at thrift stores. Old glass tea cups, brown and blue. Plates, ceramic cups...trash really. SMASH, CRASH! I liked to hear the sound of it on the stone floors. -- When you break glass you can never be sure if you get all the pieces. Sometimes they end up lodged in your bare foot weeks or months later; some memory or knowledge of that phone call stuck into my skin, covering the ground I walked on..
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