Oh, Canada (or Are We There Yet?)

I remember riding in the station wagon (the family truckster) forever. Are we there yet? From Kentucky to Canada, back when you didn’t need a passport.

I had to sit in the middle between my much older brother and sister. Mark listened to Styx on his Walkman. Beth slept. How could anyone sleep in this stifling heat.

There were two bathroom breaks. You held it in. Dad commandment one. If I made a request to stop, I got it paid back at night. We had a schedule to keep.

Every time we stopped at McDonald’s to eat, my sister had to pull me out of my seat. Vinyl and shorts did not go together well. My legs made a suction noise as she yanked me out. You had to do it like a removing band aid so that it didn’t hurt as bad. I had the same meals every day: hotcakes for breakfast and plain cheese burgers for lunch and dinner with fries, of course. Dad would be the perfect dad in public…taking everyone’s tray to them and throwing the trash out. Hurry up in the bathroom. Mark rarely went to the bathroom. I wondered if dad hurt him in there. Like he would know. He has no memory of his eighteen plus years with the family yet he hates me for supposedly being treated better because I was the youngest. Selective memories must be nice

Are we there yet? Are we there to yet? Are we close??? Then, there was Canada! Oh, Canada! Cabins and lakes and fishing and eating out at good places and mountains and bears in the garbage and the prolific walks and picnics before Mom lost her leg, everyone has one- picture of themselves as a kid on the potty- mine was in that cabin, and my Sioux Shaman babysitter (she is a story for another time) and wild and wonderful Canada! Exploring, lazy mornings- unless you were going fishing, nature walks, riding horses. No dad in my bed. Oh, Canada, you were more than a vacation spot; you were a fun refuge.

A Little Nitty Gritty Ditty

I’m dying

Inside

I ain’t lying

To hide

I see you coming for me

Mister Anxiety

Go fuck

Off

Turn your damn head

And cough

That’s right I got chesticles

And, I got you by the testicles

Got you in a vice grip

You try to move and I’ll rip, rip, rip

I break a chair over your back

To make up for all the things you think I lack

I repeat

Fuck you

Take a seat

While I use my voodoo

Concoction of pills

That thwart away your chilling ills

I won’t give up till I’ve won

I’m done.

Poet’s Note: I have intense anxiety attacks. I’ve had a horrible one building along with a migraine for 9 hours. I missed an important appointment that I have been waiting for since spring. I finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to write it out. It’s a little better now; Of course I’ve had two doses of meds now and kisses from my service dog and support dog who are curled up next to me on the couch which is some feat considering that they are both big ass dogs. Please, excuse the foul language, but, if you have ever had a major panic attack, you understand. If not, deal with it. I think this would be a good rap, so I’m giving it to the best rapper I’ve ever heard, my friend, Ian Gabriel to do with as he pleases. With all of that being said, there’s one last thing…I’m out. Mic drop…

Upon Falling to Sleep

With all of the rain today, darkness comes as a sultry hot cloth covering the eyes of a migraine sufferer.

Star race around as if they were flakes in a snow globe.

The moon relaxes her body down, down, down almost to Earth.

My dogs easily fall asleep side by side with heads on my lap.

Now it is time for me to say Good Night Moon and slip into slumberland. Now it’s time for all good girls to go to sleep.

I am too exhausted to be bad.

My Forever Family

I look to the Heavens and what do I see?

The God of my Father’s smiling down upon me.

I look at my sister and what do I view?

A love so intense that, God, it reminds me of You.

I look at my doggies and what do I sense?

The protection of the Lord, my God of recompense.

I call my brother and what do I feel?

A fierce warrior that protects and You say “Peace, be still.”

I know my Mom is with me and what do I pose?

She is watching over me with you, Lord, the God who rose.

When the Guess Label was Huge

I wear many ugly labels. I am shamed by most of my past. While Mom and her family made life sparkle like diamonds- literally and was that something to live up to if you were a female, still, it sugar coated- dad’s side of the family and dad himself. I could write a book- oh, wwait, I am- on growing up dirt poor, being abused, being sex trafficked, raped by high school guys, cheated on while I was engaged, having a baby when I was in highs school…that’s not all and it only gets me to the age of 19. If I can believe for a moment that God even loves me, then so can you.