Dear Deidre, 11:57

Just getting back from my first night on the town. I dropped down + boogied in the first bar I landed in: Mad Mick’s + The Big Mamoo. I’ve been some places that have the same faces, but the bump there + the sweat in my hair + the whiskey whiff on my wrist tasted like the Comet, + I stared out at the night seeing Seattle in the lids of my eyes + the heat rolled its fists up + down the small of my back + pinched my nose with beer, patchouli, flesh + smoke. Nawlins.

The night here is rich. The black is deep. The streets get rained on just like I thought they would, the summer storms bring the flowers out + the fragrance you could push against the night air.

And as I walked through the alleys down to the water, who should push against me but a merchant marine who said he knew my sister. What a jerk. If he had said that he knew me....

I bought him a beer + he seemed unnerved enough to actually say the words. I started talking about my boots + my leather which got him even more worked up, then I undercut it by stressing how afraid I always am, + he became rabid. Nothing I could do would turn this guy away. I belched, spat, farted, drank his beer, ignored him, made him get me jo-jo’s + cigarettes, let me dance with another guy, let me whip him at pool....I pronounced foreign words wrong, whined, played with my hair + wiped the floor with Van Deferens, his favorite band, + if his jarhead buds hadn’t distracted him I could have had a quick + easy welcome to the South. The type of night where you hide the breakfast food before you go to bed. Oh, well.

And speaking of men, guess who found me?

I got a letter today addressed to Estacada. I can’t remember the last time someone called me Estacada. It’s bad enough that after, what has it been? Nine years? That people still come up to me + yank on my hair b/c of a mohawk for one week.

Of course, the letter was from that guy in Olympia who raped me. How in hell did he find me? Especially here. He sent me a card with lots of words underlined, basically saying Hello! Hell-O! Helllllloooooo! To think that I could have loved him, +, yeah, at the time I probably did, + I had dreamed of him crawling with me through the sewers of heaven’s trough. Tough stuff for a heart that tried to analyze lust when he knew what I wanted as he strutted his love all around like broken bottles, + seeing the grin in his cheeks as he went down on me, then went up in smoke, + where was I then? I looked down from on high that night, watching myself like I’d never done anything like that + I kept thinking "he doesn’t deserve what I have," + I’m sure he felt the same as he felt my thighs + tickled my hair, trying to make me laugh at who we were + what we were doing + did he know that when I said "please" that there was something else I wanted, + when I said "don’t" I knew why he was doing it, + when I said "go" that I wanted him t steal away.

And I awoke to find him yawning in my face trying to say "Good Morning" as I went out for a walk + ran into his best friend on the promenade asking me about him with his puppydog eyes that said "If not her, then how’s about me?", his hind legs rising up like a fox, + brushing my lips with his bushy tail.

And I awoke from that to find him passed out fully dressed on the edge of the bed, almost falling off with a cigarette in his fingers that dropped onto the carpet, as suddenly the room was in flames + I had to put out the fire with his leather jacket + he finally came to, + started clapping his hands at me + wolf-whistling + I awoke finally, after those two dreams to find that my goal had been reached. I had wanted him for years + relished the anticipation + suddenly he was mine + I felt bored, until I realized that I was his, too, + I was furious. That bastard. My bitch to his bastard.

Estacada is light years away, a thousand roads gone. I was there at the death, tossing dirt on my innocence + wailing myself to sleep the way only I could. I wanted to be pure, but I also wanted joy. And I settled for any warmth that came my way, be it thawing ice or gasoline highball junction deluxe. But, pity is the only ocean that never called to me, like it lured so many others. All those who try to bring up in conversation how hurt I’ve been + all the rest of it, like I was killed or something. Yeah, I’ve been beaten down, but I got up with what I still had left. God remembers what I choose to forget, b/c tomorrow’s still coming + I’ll just change again, I guess. And there’s nothing that can happen that will make me think twice about giving what I’ve got + smiling in the night.

If rape means to be taken away, then yes, I was taken away simply by being born amongst people I don’t understand + a few who do know the depth of my dreams. And if I had spent all the energy it took to cry on building a citadel for the one I wanted to spend a vigil with....The sentinel who would walk with me + listen to me + carry me + laugh with me. But no, I had to learn to not reach for what I do not yearn.

Oh, the pettiness of it all, to take your eyes off the galaxies + worry about creatures too weak to crawl out of their own dirt, reaching up for my ankles, + I simply skip away.

Sha la la la. Sha la la la-la.

 

Shall I see you soon? Estrelica