More Late Nights with Ezzie Dryar (25. Me, Myself, I)

Jem phoned me today. She said that she was happy to have me back to my old self.

But am I?

I’ve never been the happy-go-lucky sort, and I’ll probably hit bottom tomorrow, after Christa leaves, but I’m not myself. The are black spots … no, bite-marks on my soul where Ms Ball tried to smite me. Should I go to church and make a confession? I can just hear it now:

Me: Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been 35 years since my last conversation … um confession.

Fr Daniel: I’m glad to see you back. What may I do for you?

Me: I was possessed by an evil spirit and did lewd and lascivious things. I’ve been cured of that by my witch friends, but there is still a mark on my soul. Am I doomed? Oh, and while I was possessed I fornicated with loads of men and ate their souls … I think … I couldn’t remember any of it when it was all over. I would guess that I dreamt it, except for … well … I lost several days, and my friends refuse to tell me what happened. I was naked a lot. I’m sure of that.

At that point, I could imagine the bell … book … candle … err, cloth screen fluttering as he made a big sign-of-the-cross … err, sigh … well maybe both. Why the screen? I’m a little old-fashioned, and couldn’t stomach the pasta … um, prospect of seeing the look on his face. You should be impressed that I knew his game … name. (I didn’t just make it up.)

What would he say next? Would he send me away for consorting with witches? Should I have told him about my use of tarot?

Too many questions. If he didn’t send me away, I’m sure I would still be saying Hail Mary’s and Our Fathers until I dropped. Little good it would do. I’m lost.

Is that my hair … despair? Your faith will save you my dear.

Maybe that’s my problem. What is my faith? I believe in a God (Goddess, actually) that watches over us … well neither a God or Goddess, but a profound presence that may or may not judge us by our works … certainly not by our faith. Would a last second conversion save me? Depends on which passages of the bible you refer to. It isn’t really clear, by my interpretation. Yes, I’ve read it all (not just heard it read at Mass), and studied enough of it to know that it is contradictory. (I was a nun in a past life, too!) Okay, I do believe in reincarnation. (It’s has to do with the preservation of energy.)

Sorry, I didn’t mean to go all escapist … estrogen … err, eschatological on you there. I do that when I’m down and self-absorbed.

Yes, today was all about my “self.” I drew the PRINCESS of WANDS, the card (if you remember) Jem uses to refer to me. She can be superficial, false, shallow, cruel, or faithless, if ill-dignified. (I’m not very dignified.)

The best thing about today was that the Strauss was awesome!

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Caught in the Mirror

shot out of bed
like a bullet
when the alarm sang
can’t stop to think
no, not of…

I’ll regress
brush my teeth and hair
nightgown off

caught by my reflection
in the mirror he put up

I dreamt of him again last night
still feel his warmth, his love
his skin, still soft and young
after all these years
his heart mine

got to keep moving
before I’m compos mentos
must be on the road

caught by reflection
thinking of him

I’m useless with tools
so he put it up
the right tool for the right job,
he said
which one did I lack?

warm, no tights today
just t-shirt and sexy shorts
maybe he’ll see me

caught reflecting
lost in myself

I run to forget sometimes
to forget him
but my dreams bring him back
every time
but not in daylight

hot, sweaty back home
take it off, take it all off
cleanse myself, purge him

caught reflecting
remembering him

I remember him next to me
in the shower
where I do my best thinking
and my worst
he’s not there

start my day
must get to my work
don’t daydream

caught dreaming
of his reflection

it’s one of those days
I wait until the last possible moment
to put clothes on, but I relent
blue sweatshirt, jeans
all I need to work at home

apple breasts shown best
he always liked me in that
followed me up stairs

caught in my dream
of his touches

greated by his email
my heart leaps, always does
it’s a drug, almost like sex
enough to make me whole
at least until I go to bed tonight

dream of him again
always of him next to me
naked as a babe

caught in a reflection
lying next to my dream