Bigfoot put to bed Thing 1, 2, 3 split between the angry woman with the stubbed toe, nose outta joint, no me in family, objectification was all she knew. 

Did the best they could. Let you hitchhike. Told you to forge it, forget, forgive, focaccia. Swear to God. It’s not my fault I never wanted you. Old reliable ego-seat belt, numb as the cracked plate. Watch you leave barefoot, feigning matter. No effort left to chase the Thing. Found it easier to hurt, blame, insult, ignore, joke, laugh or tell you how noble it was to suffer. The cross word. Their best, bested set you down to Rest In Peace or restlessness; and the choice is always hours. Patience is a round, the soft corners of compassion and day breaks. xo 

8 thoughts on “The Thing Is

    • Haha! Oh Vanna, can we get two f’s for Margaret who is ready to solve the puzzle? Ding ding ding! Maybe someone didn’t want us but we win that whole eternal love prize; way better 😁❤️ It makes me especially happy that you can understand my writing. !

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  1. Just throwing in a paradoxical variation here: Imagine having that kind of childhood, but periodically your mother chants, “You were a planned child, you were a wanted child.” And me going, “You wanted *a* child, but you didn’t like the one you got!” …after decades of reflection I now think my parents should never have had children, and my mother should have been given one of those feed-and-wee dolls in pretty pink instead. Anyone know the dolls I mean? They were very popular at one point, and of course they didn’t express individuality or opinions, and would not have objected to being abused either…

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