i have been posting under another name for some time; it was going well. i was funny sometimes and sometimes dreamy and melancholic.
i was making friends, forming a circle.
but it became clear that i ought to lose my real skin, joining the ranks of folks who
change names to protect the innocent
all well and good, but now i wonder...
who am i, if not me?
no pictures of my kids, who are my very best thing? no stories about my sisters...my boyfriend...my mom?
she's a pistol.
when stripped of these details
integrated in some ways, though still external
i find myself quite unsure about who i might actually be
there was a woman. i'm sure if it. a really beautiful woman, before the kids
before the failed marriage
she turned heads.
quirky, crazy, wild yet wonted. unusual and creative and alive
where is she?
where is mexico and late night dancing and a novel and a half a week and
laughing laughing laughing
with the girls... where have these things gone?
are they no longer me or merely hiding under the dirty towels
or the 'baby weight' i have yet to shed...
are they in the back of the refrigerator behind the green cream cheese?
yes, there is plenty of green cream cheese
where is alberto, the 19 year old anthropology student
he played unfamiliar, incendiary chords across my abdomen
as if i were the only woman on earth and he (silly him) had left his vihuela at home?
i can't imagine what he would think if he saw me now
though if i close my eyes and listen closely
i can almost feel his rhythm on my pre-everything belly...
i can remember long limbs and cool drinks
love notes signed jamas te olvidare
vacations and sleeping in and brunch
long days lounging in the park with friends
new skirts and late nights and every once in a while
a new man
i can remember the sweetest of dreams that may well have been my life.
if i take it one step at a time
will i once again find that
head-turning woman on the other side of the looking glass?