nearly strangers to me

we were "being watched" by my step-fathers parents (my brother Truett & me, Tracey)
they sometimes baby-sat even though they were "getting on in years"

They were probably told we would be easy to care for, that we loved watching television
(i don't know that we did love it, but we were used to it, and soon it would be put to good use, as a surrogate baby-sitter, all by itself)

there were a lot of strange cartoons back then in the sixties
there were a lot of very scary shows that we were indulged to watch
there were shows were the sweet looking old couple next door...the ones you
didn't really know, who were killing other neighbors, and cementing them
underground in the basement of their house...or worse~

we were fed from as far back as I can recall a television diet so unhealthy
it would rot your brain...and the food was doing its best to turn
your innards to mince-meat, at the same time, sometimes i remember i wouldn't poop for a week and constipation was how I thought bowel movements were...and the pain of them at times! oh lordy i often thought id rather be dead than take a shit

southern cooking was full of lard back then, and what didn't have a bushel barrel of sugar
in it, was usually salted to high heaven and again on the way back down from heaven for good measure... that & when we weren't being given convenience food like hot dogs & chili
from a can, or t.v. dinners...or macaroni & cheese by my single working mom
(in nursing school ) or chef boy-r-dees...well we weren't eatin' at optimum health standards by any means even though we weren't considered terribly poor, I hated to think what poor folks "was eating", poor bastards

when we weren't eating at home while mom was away. we would be given the lovely home-made stuff that tasted pretty dreamy by comparison but was hell to pay later on...in cravings for a high sugar content, hi-calorie, high salt, diet

well I diverged from the original path of destruction...let me veer back to the gist
or gristle of the matter

we were being watched by a couple we didn't know well, our new step-dads parents, and we were fairly new at being with anyone outside of family we already grew up around, and these folks seemed pretty much foreign
but we were there and we stayed a few times that I can recall

once when Euell told me to take a nap by him on the couch maybe...maybe that happened there...I'm not exactly sure which house it happened in
that part didn't seem to count so much as the event itself...when he said "lets play a game" (or something along the lines..."game" I was willing to go along with, probably with a little smile)
and that turned out to be a home-made game he made up. right there 'on the spot' so-to-speak where i would merely just push my small lithe little frame into position with my feet by his feet, which of course led to my head and face being smack dab in the middle of his pants zipper
(this gets a bit fuzzy here and I just THINK Maybe that i sort of remember having a hell of a time trying to nap like that) but that maaaaybe nothing else happened then

and perhaps we were at that house, even, the time he put his hands on my clit, and rubbed around a bit, causing me a strange and imperceptible balance of excitement? & fear, guilt, and shame, grief at the forthcoming life he was currently ruining to the best of his ability at that very moment...some emotions are hard to explain, even to yourself... at the ripe old age of six, maybe... or maybe older, maybe six & a half

yes, there may be things that i cannot remember...things that caused me to need forget
there may be something y mind will not expand upon just yet, but if I can reach for it real deep
and if I can touch it, now matter how smelly or funky, or slimy, or mildew smellin' or rotted
it may seem to me to touch on it
i will try and get to it and pluck it from the soured well, that I may see how
that forged parts of me
made me the frenetic, powerful, passionate and passion-less, fearful, indulgent, by-passer to life that i can be, how it contributes to the wasted time i have spent, the hedonism, the tortured past, the scrapped body parts the near deaths, and the poisonings that i gave myself over time
how i become this
artist without a clue
lauding and losing these
these god-given talents
unable to make something of myself
something...anything beyond this tinkerer
and terror and tale-teller who cant seem to keep a dime in each hand to rub together
how i cant seem to build the home or even buy the acreage

for my legacy to my children who i love SO so much~
what PRECISELY is Blocking & Stopping & Hurting Me so that I cannot thrive, as many seem to be allowed by life's circumstances, to do?

if I can touch the rancid old mess, IF i can reach it, i will wash it clean with fresh water and obviously with many strained tears...
i dare say i would lick the muck, to clean myself of it
if I had to... for i know I, will die with this dis~ease in life if i cannot reach it, take it out and examine and clean it

i will leave no happy legacy if I cant touch the gory meaty fleshy depths
of the soul disease that fills me with covered sadness & remorse
at having a life so blessed and yet so cursed

if a forensics scientist or specialist were to take apart a crime scene whilst fresh
they may have a rather easy time of it
yet after a forty plus year span (and having a bout of memory problems)
they should arrive on the same (now disturbed) scene they would arrive at two very different
conclusions...and for Good REASON

once, the scene has been changed consistently...for say forty two years...
and that changing scene, has led to the whole diaspora being almost a parallel reality
and that is the murky nonsensical place where i sit now
at the scene of the crime...but having gone through years of constant change, or forgiving and reliving, of going over, of remembering as if it were just finished, to trying oh so hard to forget

this is my beginning point
a small girl sits on a couch
a man she know little about
except that he has married her
MOTHER
has said it is time to nap
will you put your feet here?
the girl can't remember much more now

what exactly happened here, little one?

Maybe it is best forgotten, people will say...maybe it is.
But MAYBE if I don't remember, maybe if I don't do the work I will always
harbor that ghost, and allow for that phantom of madness
tha comes to me when i am weak, and gives me the strength in hate
and in Love to go on
maybe that madness that i touch comes from a place I harbor where
the secrets are brought
and hidden from memory

maybe i need to work it up with my hands
bring in into light...get it some fertile ground
feed it, give it water & sun
allow it to fester into seed, to bring forth fruit
to increase the knowledge of what it means for me
to be truly HUMAN as I long to be

I am a human who was stifled by an act
degrading and unacceptable to society
an act so hideous that it is spoken of only in quiet
hours and in hushed tones

i was assaulted by a lighting of a pleasure center
way before
it should have been lit by anyone
it was lit by someone who was not initiated by god

someone cruel in his secrecy
devoted to his lie
careful not to be caught
clever to leave quickly

a Mother
foolish enough to leave ties
but not so foolish as o stay close by
smart enough to leave the crime scene
even without knowing fully what crime had occurred?

No One was smart enough to seek counsel for the ViCtiM
no one knew what Strengths and weaknesses would help repair
and mend, No one knew what to do, in a time so UNFAMILIAR
to these crimes of lust, and mistrust, crimes against little children
defenseless...left open for reasons unsure in a new world where
women will work, and we all will share this burden of raising the poor children

we all will pretend to watch them well
wile we distract our lives with telephones & televisions and dreams
and goals of more import than these little tykes
they will Be FINE

when Euell played with my private places I was squeamish
i was sort of turned on
i was scared as hell

he must have told me it was wrong
and what could or might happen if caught
maybe he told me it was alright though
and because it didn't really hurt, i guessed maybe that
it was alright, but then, he said not to TELL Anyone
NO-ONE must know...no not anyone Tracey

(then of course it must be wrong that WE have done...just Now)





its so much to gather up and understand
as to leave a girl without words and spirit