so mama's crossing the country again cos her rellies still live up norths & they refuse to cross the Mason-Dixon even tho it's a wee bit warmer where i live.
& by wee, i mean a hell of a fucking lot.
& the truckers on the interstate are pissing mama off again cos they like to get in the left hand lane where she's doing like 90 & her whole car's shaking & her steering wheel's shaking & her arms are shaking & her legs are twitching & her eyeballs are popping & locking & it's better than twister with methheads until the trucks slow her ride down when they get into the left hand lane & she starts cussing like a tweaker tearing at her own face & her dogs in back start barking barking. it's fucking glorious.
get to indiyucky in one piece & check into the motel & the clerk's giving mama the shifty eyes & mama keeps dropping things like little hansel & gretel trying to find their way out of the woods.
mama wants in those woods. she'd stay lost foreverever.
in my room, i get the flask out & it's whiskeys and water until it's sleepysleeper time.
5 am i wake up in pain. & it's my monthly visitor. my red auntie or someshit like this.
fuck. i only packed two tampons.
and i'm all like, why, period, why?
& my period's like, cos when i signed up for this gig, i was given some rules. & rule #2 is: you must show up at completely inappropriate times, like road trips.
i don't say nothing cos i'm all crampy & groggy & shit.
my period says, remember when you were wearing all white and you looked like a winter goddess? those white wool pants...
i says, yes.
my period says, & the second time you got with the ex-Marine...
i says, he didn't care.
my period says, yeah, there're some guys who don't. & some womens, too.
i say, you gots me, there.
my period hits me with a squeeze from lower back to my knees for confirmatory emphasis.
i say, what's the first rule?
my period doesn't answer cos it's just a part of my body & society wants me to be ashamed of the way my body looks & acts anyways. & if society knew i was having a little convo with my period they'd think mama was loony & make her even more ashamed of her body & the way it bleeds every month & there's that saying about not trusting a bitch who bleeds & doesn't die & i say don't trust a dude who tries to stick it in you who won't stick it in you when you're on the rag cos he's the real bitch & he's the one who needs a plug...
& here are two more plugs:
FIX IT BROKEN's 1st issue!!!!! & mama's in it, along with other good stuffs from Matthew Dexter, Zoe Alexandra, and Barry Graham and Peter Schwartz...
if you haven't already, buy mama's chapbook, Orpheus on toast. it is good like warm bread with melty stuff on it.
yours on the rag,