Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 21



FABULOUS


“I don’t care what else is on the inventory. You still have to take responsibility for fabulous,” said my sponsor with a determined look on her face.
“But you don’t understand. The other things on the list make it impossible for me to be fabulous. You just can’t see how incapable I truly am,” I say as I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair.
“What you don’t comprehend is that fabulous is not affected by your other little grumbling. You can’t tarnish fabulous; it doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect. This is why no matter how far you bury it, or misname it, or even flatly deny it, fabulous shines like a beacon and you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha on your doorstep expecting you to be who you are and let them warm in the glow. So, my cherub, you can fight it or live with it, but fabulous is here to stay.”
And this ladies and gentlemen is how my sponsor wins all the arguments.



Pour a rainbow into your dreams.
*



Do Not Enter

Putting all the mess
securely behind that door is no protection.
If the keys are changed will I be able to open it?

If the locks retumbled will I crack the combination?
Like a demon sealed within a womb
emergence is inevitable either upon this mortal plain
or cellularly encoded and reborn at a later date.

Prison is what holds captive the innocent,
evil is always at liberty.
Walling off my parts and pieces
severs limbs and destroys thinking.

Loads of cheesecloth is what I need; filter and refilter,
catching all debris. Putting the toxic things
to better use and making myself free.



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[LeftWriteFemme]

June 22


INVENTORY

“When you say ‘self’ who ever do you mean?” asked my sponsor. “Do you mean the lovely velvet child or the facade you built to show others?”
“Well, I wish I could answer you, I do,” my reply.
“I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety. I love that you made it. When you talk about ridding yourself of ‘self’ I doubt you mean this edifice. Do you speak of some creature in the past? Do you know of whom you speak? Are you parroting then assuming this thing exists solely for you to now dispose of it?”
“I thought ‘self’ was self-evident,” I feebly interject.
“I want names and locations. If you only suspect some of these entities please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions. I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals. I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping. I see by the bright look on your face I have made myself clear,” she said with conviction.
“So, this is what you meant by self inventory,” I say and sigh.


Draw a maze of exit from a dilemma.
*


The Tide in Texas

I cannot tell you of my pain,
how the liars took me off my land,
how my heart lay shattered all around,
how I’m so foolish and left in town.

I cannot show you the big red ball,
which to me is a shame
or how it bobs and sways or how the tail of it hangs
out of reach and taunts me all the day.

But growing up to face the facts
and finding my strong legs
has put me to another tact
and sucks the mud away.

Sharing my disappointment and my grief
is like adding ballast to the boats.
It lifts us all instead of sinking me.
Not much of a price to pay.




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