Throwback Thursday: Just There

Written March 28, 2010.

I took a shower and
buried myself under water so hot it made my
arm hairs stand on end and then they
looked like bits of pale light covered with
dew drops

And I thought of Dali
how I wandered through his theater in Spain last
May and laughed and chuckled with his paintings
like they were old friends of mine
and shook my head and said to myself
oh Dali, you are such a fucking weirdo.

I was just there- Man, I was just there.

And my new rats are sleeping in one corner of my room
plopped on top of each other's fuzz- nose in tail and
face in belly-
while my older rat Monty on the other side of the room
naps alone- his own head curled under himself as
if to take in the warmth of his own body so he does
not feel so apart and separate

As I too have curled under the bed sheets at night
until my knees hug to my breasts and I can
hear myself breathing and pulsing and I
am not so trapped anymore.

But I still remember waking up above London streets
with the smell of sausage from the sandwich store downstairs
in my nose and the fluffy cloud like
duvet wrapped tight to my arms and then I would
turn and see if she was still sleeping on the other side of the room
and maybe I would fall back to think a bit before I
tried to tackle the day.

And we were just there, dammit, we were just there.

And I am drip drying now in my chair painted green-
hair longer than it's been in a while cold on my back
and my pink and purple fingernails tapping over the keyboard
like what I says makes a difference

They say that Dali was asked to come to a costume party once
dressed as his dreams and when they opened the door he
was standing there in the garb of death.

God, what an amazing weirdo.

And I was just there, girl, I was just there.