For Jeanette, this is her mother’s story.
And it was all yellow…
I think of yellow sometimes
I hated it until I thought of daisies and bananas.
And the sun dipped yellow carnations on her casket,
And her eyes before she died.
They say it was Mamma’s liver
I say no one understands he betrayed her.
I say we drink dirty martinis on a Wednesday,
In honor of her death day.
I read her diary the other day
Who knew their marriage was so troubled
I didn’t know, I didn’t know, this was her way
Of fighting, of making her heart less battered.
I think of the red fire hydrant across from the house I grew up in
Where I became a liar.
I remembered She threatened that night to set us,
And All the rooms on fire.
They say it was the alcohol
I say it was the wind.
The air was suffocating her
And the sidewalk didn’t end.
She took me to my ballet recital when I was nine
She stood there cheering me on.
And when I fell on stage that night
She said everything, everything would be alright.
near the end…we hid in the car, to avoid her hostility.
We would go out to dinner but tell no one why,
then sit in the driveway and listen to her scream and cry.
She was a mad woman now, a witch who couldn’t fly.
They say we are ninety percent water
I should have held her
And drowned her in my embrace.
I say she died of a broken heart
I didn’t see her then, all I saw was her once pretty face.
When I was a kid I played pretend, make believe,
I played doctor, that’s when I knew how to feel.
I wanted to cure death in my fantasy
I didn’t know then how dirty the noble can be.
I don’t talk to god, I don’t even know his name
He is just a fantasy that got a lot of fame.
I didn’t know how dirty my dreams could be
I don’t write them down, you would burn my diary.
The night she died,
my socks were striped like a bumble bee
In my least favorite color of the rainbow…
It was called yellow you see.
Let’s color, let’s play.
Because one of us,
no all of us ,
will die one day.