The past is not the past,
The future is here.
The present is ever-changing.
Little man, where are you?
Tell me not to stress and sorrow.
Tell me I do not have to
Relive my years.
Eyes close
And I am there again.
Eyes open
And I am back here.
So easy to forget,
So easy to remember.
(The following is a response to Lydia Davis’ short story ‘The Fears of Mrs. Orlando’)
We are all paranoid women
When we walk the streets
Alone.
Making up fictions of the most
Macabre origins.
Shudder and retreat
Off these streets
When your fears and suspicions
Run wild
And free.
After a while,
Even your humble abode
Will not humble you with
The false comforts of
Hospitality and safety.
The world is the most
Dangerous game.
And you are a player
Without any ounce of
Expertise. So, flee.
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