It's here somewhere . . . it has to be . . . I just know it . . .
Wind chimes . . . catching the blizzard's tail . . .
and you . . . journaling your odyssey . . . now in its nth year . . .
worrying the lines . . . that deepen
with every footnote . . .
nostalgic for the look you had
at the beginning of the New Millennium . . . aka Y2K . . .
Do you regard past playaphiles with a smile? . . .
Should you? . . . You're asking me? . . .
You paid the price for their best behavior . . .
You made the best call . . .
We all make the best call . . . in the moment, yes? . . .
when roads diverge . . .
and the photo-montage of smiling faces . . .
Smiling Faces Sometimes . . .
Smiling Faces Sometimes . . . pretend . . .
The Temptations, yes? . . . Psychedelic Soul . . .
The Wayback Machine . . . back to the '70s . . .
If they can do it . . . I can do it . . .
with Jack in the Beanstalk's goose laying golden
eggs on your face . . . after-hours clubbing
seals . . . awaiting their ship . . .
brimmed with henna intimacy . . .
and the dead silence of phony phone numbers . . .
Who knew? . . . Certainly not you? . . .
Then the stumbling began . . .
the eyeliner underlined with stilettos
and role confusion . . .
Erik - son of Erik - Erikson's Moratorium . . . and the hiatus . . .
I retreat . . . into my children . . .
I am my children . . .
I become my children . . .
I become untouchable . . .
I accept my sentence . . .
my paragraph . . . the entire book . . .
a cautionary, confessional tale of two people . . . me . . .
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| Patti Smith |