Saturday, December 10, 2005

Translucent

I am the one you begin to introduce but then never do because someone else more interesting or perhaps more important came along. I am the one left , forgotten, waiting with pen in hand as you went to smoke a cigarette and make plans for the rest of the night. Plans of wine and cigarettes and yerba santa, plans I cannot be a part of because I am playing the role of mother tonight, tomorrow and the day after that. My maternity isolates me.

I am the one you told that you thought of coming by to see me but the thought ended up just being that, a thought.

When asked of my plans and I respond that I have to recite a poem somewhere, you ask about her, not about the where, the what or why. You ask in a way that judges my balancing act of roles. Mami. Poeta. Puta. Mami. Poeta . Puta.

Then you wonder why I say my support system is non-existent.

I'm only slightly worth remembering.

2 Comments:

Blogger fiercelyfab said...

I hear ya Mala--loud and clear.

12/11/2005 02:58:00 AM  
Anonymous lips71 said...

I feel the same way except i have no kids

12/11/2005 10:19:00 PM  

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