"...that dark miracle of chance which makes new magic in a dusty world."
- Thomas Wolfe
That's Jeff's mama.
Right there.
Or one of them.
He's got two. Adopted
by a straight-laced couple,
Christian and bun-haired.
They almost came apart at the seams
on account of the rock 'n roll.
The daddy tried to force him
to play sports.
Yep, he was the black sheep
of that family. Add the drugs
and alcohol, and the camel’s back
was broken. Kicked out,
age fifteen.
Years, a marriage,
and a child later,
his real mama
(the one in this picture)
finds him. The reunion
was a devil storm
of alcohol-fueled emotion.
They were both big boozers.
But she's definitely his mama.
She's a hippie. Lovely.
She’s amazing.
His other parents are OK too.
They were just doing
what they thought was right.
We still see them.
My mom? She's in her heaven;
lost her just after Rowan was born.
Ovarian cancer.
She visits me sometimes
as a black bird. I call it a raven,
but it's probably just a crow.
Shhhh...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment