I AM EGO, EGGS & ETCH-A-SKETCH

                                                           

I am embryonic fluid and darkness dancin’ to the oldies. I am ham and eggs and sperm. I am fetus, feel me kick. I am a Spielbergian blast of white light and a slap on the bottom. I’m a breast full of milk and a mouth chugging on a nipple like it was a can of Carnation. I’m a diaper sloshing with smelly secrets.

I’m a sparkling smile in my father’s eyes and a weary grin on my mother’s lips. I’m a puppy licking your face. I’m a cat scratch and a million meows. I’m a bump from a bang on the back hanging over your father’s shoulder. I am the Cat in the Hat. I am Sam, I am.

I’m a training bra and an athletic supporter. I’m school, summer vacations and swimming. I’m puberty, pimples and piano lessons. I’m a girl’s giggle and a boy’s bashfulness on a first date. I’m the power of love and the friction of sex. I’m X-rated. I’m out of gas on a dark country road with a girl who is not amused and who has some big brothers who’ll want to talk to me later. I’m straight as an arrow. I’m gay as a blade.

I’m the prayer in the dark that seems to cure cancer. I’m a nun kneeling, a preacher praying and a sinner straying. I’m a Buddhist, a Muslim and a Methodist. I’m black, white, red and yellow with Kodacolor chromosomes. I’m the universal soldier dying for the sins of his leaders. And I’m the innocent caught dead in the middle.

I’m Christmas, Easter and the Year of the Dog. I’m Passover and Palm Sunday. I’m a family holiday sitting all alone in front of festive old movies on TV and becoming more suicidal by the minute. I’m a family holiday with all your relatives fighting the same fights since childhood, getting a knot in your stomach, big as a beer pretzel, and becoming more suicidal by the minute. I am hope and hype, delight and despair all sitting in your favorite chair. 

I’m a whiff of scandal and the rot of rumor. I am gossip in the gutter, the tabloid of the town with a tongue like butter. I’m fame and I’m shame. I’m game and I’m to blame. I’m shy and I could just die. All I do is cry.

I’m a killer’s heartfelt apology after he’s been caught and convicted, when before he was bragging about it. I’m a politician’s promises to each different interest group, regardless of the contradictions and consequences.

I’m sitting on the porch in the summer watching the girls go buy something at the store

next door. I’m a day on the river in dappled sunshine and rippled shade. I’m the ocean with its ceaseless pounding of eternity, crashing across continents and the centuries. I’m ebb. I’m floe. I’m a cup of joe.

I’m a stroll in Paris past pickpockets and prostitutes to see the Moulin Rouge. I’m a walk around London under smudged skies and through diesel fumes, enjoying myself immensely.

I’m love and marriage, a horse and miscarriage. I’m the cream, you’re the top. I’m holding hands in the dark as you watch your children sleeping. I’m the slamming of the door, the meals in front of the TV and the fights over who’s to blame for the way the kids turned out.

I’m not good for me. I’m someone who should have known better. I’m the wife who doesn’t want her husband anymore. I’m the husband who laughs while his wife weeps. I am anger, abuse and anchovies. I’m hate, hurt and humidity. I am cruelty and kindness, pity and punching, irony and ironing. I am the refuge of chocolate.

I am food that’s no good, yet sooo good. I’m the 50^th anniversary of a couple who haven’t spoken for the last 40 years. I’m taking care of your parents like they took care of you when you were a child. I’m operations, nursing homes, life support and dreaded phone calls after midnight.

I’m a limited warranty on your body. I’m cancer, cardiac arrest and crossword puzzles in your hospital bed. I’m someone who stopped caring enough to send the very best.

I AM LIFE, full of fury, fright, fun, frustration, futility, fat and fate. THEN…I am death.