roxxee

Yet another ode to my Mother

Untitled
I see you young and glowing. Sunlight hair. The faded photographs betray the spark of endless possibilities in your eyes.
A 14 year old Mona Lisa. Even then, never giving up too much of yourself. You were meloncholy mystery.
***
When I visit, you wring your hands. The endless pacing makes my head spin. The blisters on your lips shine like smooth quartz.
And you say you need the pipe.
You say it is all lost.
The lines in your face are like ripples in water.
***
When I see you in my mind's eye, you are young again. We go to Marcado Del Sol. We eat Chili Rellano at Adrian's. You take pictures of me, so akward at 12. I feel like meloncholy mystery. Like you. Your cornsilk hair shines. The camara clicks and flashes. We had never hugged but sitting next to you in the Jeep, speeding down the highway I felt...embraced.
You said "clean" was a good word for it. You felt cleansed.
***
Mama and me on my 15th birthday. You made fondue
and chocolate covered strawberries. We drank pink champagne. Before I fell asleep, my head still light, you said "Trust no one."
***
I know when I leave you will rock up. I stay a little longer even though I know it won't matter in the end.
***
Mother in her Nieman's suit, placid smile...
***
Mama screaming in the night. Susan left you and I cleaned the blood from the hallway.
***
Mama bringing gold and silver balloons from the party. You woke me up to talk so late. The champagne was sweet on your breath.
***
Mother wandering the streets in your underware. You stared blankly as I drove you home.
***
I get up to leave, hand you some money, kiss your forehead. I walk away and shut the door.
On the drive home I smoke endless cigarettes, lighting one with the other.
I hear your voice from a tattered, dog-eared memory. You say "Trust no one."