Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

For Good

Morning.
At least I think it is.
There is so much slipping away.
I sit in the corner like a child
clutching leaves
as the wind blows,
trying to hold on to what is mine.
It is a good fight
but I feel like I am losing.
The daily phone calls
of insanity
are starting to seep into my consciousness.
They are both gone
my parents.
I am an orphan now.
Not that I always wasn’t.
But now I know there is no one for me to call.
Growing up I didn’t realize that.
I turned to them,
the rabbit and the bear
and thought they could help me.
I sat on laps
and drank in stories
of lemon trees filled with candy rooms
and Freddie the Frog
and Timmy the Turtle.
who ran the grocery store.
I thought the joke about the Baptists
and their dozen eggs was so funny
and I laughed in hysterics at the monks and their argument.
Oh where is it now?
My father,
with the racquet in his hand
always ready to make his “dink” shot.
My mother,
sambaing to the Bossa Nova
of Sergio Mendez..
Me,
dancing in the den
pretending I would be
famous.
Where has it all gone?
My hands are dry and wrinkled
and the days are nothing but shopping carts
and bills.
I want to go back
and start over.
I want to go back
and find a way out.
I want to go back
and pretend
before it is too late
before I am put away
for good.