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Marlene

Marlene,

I never knew quite what you were, and for a time that you were at all.

I remember hearing of you, they said that you existed.

& I remember now him saying that you don’t.

I don’t know if you’re anywhere now.  

I suppose logistically-practically it doesn’t matter.

I love a part of you that once loved my father.

& viche versa.  My father once loved a part of you.

perhaps all of you.

I love the part of you that made my sisters, even if I may not love fully my sisters.

I love any moment that you loved at all.

And I despise every moment, every part of you that ever made my father feel any less than exemplary. 

Because juxtaposed, he is.

And he was by your side.  I hope you knew that.  That there was a man that loved you as he hated so much of you, or loved you when he hated you once.

Goodbye phantom-woman-wife death.  Mother of my sisters, once partner to my father.

—J

Seen.

I saw the minds of my

generation.  Some of them.

I looked & some looked back. 

Never, always temporarily.

Never like it “was”,

or some say “will.”

We sat around smoking cigarettes & 

Marilyn.  

We sat around & said yes to 

this & that, more and more often.

Too much, which would increasingly mean

not enough.

We sat around telling stories, but

usually very little. 

You can usually see in a thunderstorm

of hookah & ashen promises.  

You can see what could be, 

& you say,

“I wish I couldn’t see what could be.”.

It was harder & harder to live, 

and easier & easier to live-half.

You could taste something,

in the air of groping & reaching & reaching

out.  fingers would swipe eachother, connect for an

instant.  And that would usually

be all, end all keep all sacred and inside.

Wandering, I guess, or

buckling down into night languid.

Something.

—J