Just checked on a suicidal woman in our group. Told her I would write her back after I had written a poem.
TRYING NOT TO LOOK IN THE MIRROR WHILE I BRUSH MY TEETH
Once men would look at me
A full brunette with shoulder length hair
like Pier Angeli
Now my eyebrows are slashed with white hairs
like Dale Evans' horse Buttermilk
A little smile plays upon my lips
as hairs jut from my chin
Could it be
Could it be
That I am still here
Till the world is done with me?
...
Brought in the Yellow Plastic Bin from the street, the one that had turned over on its side in the winds. Scott came and told me.
The last thing I put in there was a foil packet of Salmon, rinsed out, I made a feast with it while listening to Brahms on my kitchen radio.
...
Was doing my back and leg exercises downstairs in the basement. Helene's SONY radio was on. Suddenly I saw myriads of dead insects. Scooped em up in toilet paper and flushed em down the toilet drain.
Y U C K
...
Ah, the breakfast gong goes off at the Ponderosa.
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