She wasnt confused

certainly not confused as many people thought she was  --  looking In from Outside utterly irrespective that she wasnt a mirror of their reflections  judging them and their lives as readily and haplessly as they judged her                           

somehow entitled or befit to assume whatever they wished  and then rear back on quivering haunch

braying aloud their pronouncements

No  she wasnt confused

she often overheard these people talking sharing their travels  and those experiences

they had gone There and There and There                                                                                    

                                                                     and Then  --  Well  itd be foolish to pass by  --  Wed never make a separate trip some other time  --  No we didnt think theyd be worthwhile onto themselves  --  they also went There There and There and were glad they did

How wonderful!  she truly thought that  for them

 

she imagined how good it must be to let your hair down  travel  seek out exciting new places  attain different perspectives  perhaps realise new perceptions

How very refreshing! No! Invigorating!

she imagined those trips had to be like warm bottles of soda pop and shaking shaking shaking them violently  then prying off their caps and they explode and the gush and  spray the froth Everywhere! and Everything within its radius bespeckled and tickled sticky sweet

                                                              

Really  How wonderful!

Someday she was going to do that too 
she was definitely going to do that

                                                                                           Someday

Yes someday she was going to be altered healed and go out into life like a shaken bottle of soda pop

and Explode!

leaving bits and pieces of herself everywhere

sticky

reminding anyone and everyone she had been there

shed travel too . . . yes . . 
travel

She and they were utterly different  she thought
so very near 
yet so far apart

literally  she was immediately before them

her travails

their travels

in every dictionary she ever picked up she hoped to find one where their printing  the fonts they used  or their format
might have separated the two into different columns  hopeful for at least that 

or a new word created to simply wedge between them

not yet

she hadnt found that dictionary yet

travail 
travel

she suffered her travails through no fault of her own 
Yes yes I know I know

her friend teased her relentlessly  You should have taken the time to better choose your parents
he offered her that her challenges were nothing she did to herself or could have stopped anywhere along the line 
They were out of your control . . . baked in the cake . . . got to play the cards youre dealt

Those miserable  fucking  aphorisms    
she wanted to tell him to try them on for size
but whenever their conversations went that way  their endless bleak happy ridiculous informative fantastic arguing debating agreeing preaching-to-the-choir conversations  he invariably  compassionately  said it was shit
said it was miserable 
said he wished he could change it for her 
                                                                    I am sorry because I really dont know what its like  I dont know what its like Ive been very fortunate my health has always been very good

I am grateful I can say that and I try my level best never  never  to take it for granted

so she couldnt tell him to try it on for size

but those who looked In from Outside
who told her she ought to be grateful  play the cards she was dealt
who were dealt flushes straights and full houses when the HAholy cards she peered into were occasionally a King high
she couldnt bluff as originally she could because her reputation now preceded her and everyone clamoured to get in on her table because their odds improve  they didnt have to concern themselves with a damn thing she might hold

she wanted to ask them if they wanted to change places 
they wouldnt
she wanted to tell them if she could swap places with them  she glared  I would

damn right she would
after all this time passed she wouldnt think twice
let someone else drag their carcass around behind everyone elses heels for a while
enjoy the taste of Humble Pie

try and enjoy

travail . . .
travel . . . travail . . . is a big wood crate laying in the middle of an exercise yard youre stuffed into for punishment and forced to endure the sun the cold the rain anything the elements throw at you or the skin robes used in Oaklands prison during Londons time  the robes soaked in a tub of fetid water spread down on a dirt floor in an underground cell and youre wrapped in them  your chest stomped on by guards who used it as leverage to lace up the robes around you
then they leave you   alone   to endure the robe as it dries slowly tightens up slowly tightens up around you  constricting   distorting     breaking bones
                                                       

sadistic

in the box 
rolled in skin
confined
youre going nowhere 
but to survive  you gotta go somewhere

she wasnt confused

                                 If I asked you to swap my travails for your travels
You wouldnt
I would 
Mebbe your wont  my cant  says something about us

Mebbe you ought to show a little gratitude acknowledge your entitlement and very quietly leave me to my travails

that you couldnt wrap your head around if you tried

                1059,  Reggae Friday,  6  3. 15
0847,  Saturday,  7  3. 15

the brilliant white Asiatic writing or calligraphy that scarred the slick black screen in his closed eyes when he laid down in bed to sleep

                                                                cued in him to woander if it wasnt a message from the other side or some other-other side

wanting him to pursue it

it went so far in his thinking that he woandered if  as the characters were rendered  were they rendered  inscribed on the screen on his side as he might write them  or were they written backwards to him  executed for the purpose of whomever inscribed them

as one might exhale on a windowpane in the cold of winter
then etch their message with a naked finger on the glass that they could read  though it would appear backwards to those inside the warm house on the other side of the glass

to make matters worse  and hopeless for him

the characters inked  stroke by stroke

revealing themselves smartly

quickly dulled  and evaporated

almost before he could make them out

he hadnt a pen and pad with him to draw blindly on

transcribe

and they appeared randomly  no rhyme or reason to their placement

as a small child might scribble with a crayon anywhere on a page

and make up what it was they committed 

                                                                      then moments later

make up something else for the same commitment

Pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey

though after you were blindfolded the donkeys reins were dropped and it could wandered wherever it wanted

so he laid still 

                        and enthralled

watched the calligraphy struck and fade

reminiscent of watching fireflies against the night or among the fragrant hedges in the Chicago neighborhood of his youth

Then                                          

          he didnt worry if they had something to say  or not

 

maybe he should have

                   early AM, Thursday,  5  3. 15
2015,  Thursday,  5  3. 15