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middle sexed ex

Miscellaneous By: Vashti Puls
Memoir



A stream of consciousness/poetry memory of leaving my lover for the last time


Submitted:Apr 4, 2013    Reads: 27    Comments: 1    Likes: 2   


numb the slow slug leaves behind sticky silver residue destroys my plants
all that is green in my heart but i look in his eyes into his face his antennae wiggling and realize he
is just trying to stay alive
what am i to do the other shoe is not on his foot i am walking lopsided for i have lost it
old people are not supposed to fall in love or have sex or even exist for that matter- i am
getting there ...but i refuse i look and feel younger than my years my body is in better
shape than some people half my age
trail behind me fog cover my world with your grey mists clog my breath so i think i do not
exist -i shall not fight- for i know the soundness of my own reality and you are no more
threatening than any other illusion - i am creating- i breathe- let go- what is simply exits
my perceptions are they weapons reflections presents i am forever opening then
throwing away with the next wrappings- events happen things are i am so what to
do...be...what of the irritations- the objections-the rationalizations- the trying trying the
racing racing....the heart beating and pounding- the sweat- the excrement- the
unpleasantness the mess the fuss the roadblocks the helplessness the quest the
questioning the journey the lack of energy the lows the centers the peaks the traveling
and the stagnation the greediness and the starvation bricks walls molecule jars full
empty broken waiting for what? More emptiness to overflow into the invisibility-there is no
invincibility- no god or deity to save me whether i am kind or mean loving or giving it is
the same- there is no punishment or reward except externally in the form of often unjust
laws or internally where i often torture or victimize myself while the so called criminal
has no conscience...rape, murder,thievery.... endless herds of cattle plodding off to
death-they feel it-they know i and they are graded and different parts named better one
steak one hamburger , tongue, or liver.... humans consider themselves to be higher on
the so called food chain- to have a better level of consciousness- to have more
rights...what of this? Is the hook no different from the fish- is the fishing pole no different
from the one that holds it= so your molecules have morphed into different shape and
you think you know the secret of language because you speak human ?Then why is it
you speak in different tongues and even then may of you forget there are different ways
of being...some hear with their hands some with their eyes some draw pictures some
make marks, sing or write or dance or eat....or be? why is this simple being ness not
enough? Why must there be hierarchies and rules to follow and labels and direction..
If you want to go there in stead of here is it not you who is there through out of the journey
no matter what the body or method of transport or manner of eating, sleeping, having
sex, procreating, releasing excrement, intake of more said "product"? that I do not
understand this, this thisness does that make me retarded senile stupid ignorant lazy in
valid disabled guilty innocent inhuman alien savage beastly greedy ,in need of ...?
Imprisonment, coronation, deep cleansing, saving,,, extermination, embalming, residing
in a cage or an old age home, hospitalization, a new hair do, a makeover, a better
job,education,mate, lover....present? Planet?
I am sad and angry and numb and can not remember with out forgetting and the other
way around. I love him-it is that simple. Now he is going home for he has lost his job.
Now he returns to he wife that kicked him out because she wishes to re conciliate and he
has self- doubts.feels beaten down from being fired by the job has guilt over me etc. .
He thinks he isn't good enough for me is too old etc. I started crying then just went
numb. Could talk no more. The snow fell down faster and the GPS lady took pity on me
and went silent also. We became lost literally as we are in our emotions. He stopped at a
way side and the glass became more dirty as he tried to wipe it away with snow. Then
we pull into McDonald's the vegetarians night mare land and have water downed coffee
to which they added two sugars for which I didn't ask. Then onto Walmart yes that
wondrous store that employs slaves. It is crowded with Saturday shoppers wishing to
add more stuff to their useless objects lists. we hunt for electrical tape and paper clips
with which to fix the windshield wipers. The tape is made of paper and tears , the
paper clips too
thick. We finally make it to my home city and i realize i have no keys. He offers to take me
to lunch.
on the way there i call home and find they are just leaving. I ask for them to stay so that I
can get in. GPS woman stops working again but I know my way home. A very small
goodbye kiss from him. The dogs jump all over me kissing me as if they haven't seen me
in ages. All the while I see him through the window across the street still trying to wash
the dirty windshield. i want to wave . I want to cry and run out and say he has forgotten
me. I stay inside warm with the dogs tongues lapping at me. I wonder if he sees me.
Eventually I stop looking and he isn't there. I sleep along while and have strange dreams
akin to the end of the world coming because big business is taking over peoples homes
and jobs. Some bit about living in overcrowded boats in which people are haunted by the
hosts of those whom have recently died. No one understands and every one acts normal
until it happens to them. By then it is too late. I awake and call Kerry and he tells me he
has found his best friend has died of cancer, and the mother has lost her other son
to drugs and husband to stroke.
I am so angry take it out on myself by eating a whole bag of caramel corn which i don't
like and not hungry for. It seems Nigel in the mean time has written to tell me he is home
and so so so sorry for my sadness. He writes me the next day saying he is sorry and am I still his woman?
They live together and have no sex no relationship and even have seperate cats-where is a pussy when you need one he asks
Meanwhile I am crying my eyes out Jonesing from no sex and angery at myself that he didn't get a divorce as promised
I am too old for this too sick I get on the internet and hook up with my lover from Isreal
we are safe and can talk and dream sexually charged skies but safe from thundrr and lightening
I want it to hit me_ I want to be shocked and grounded and in flight all at the same time
The samil is too slow I do not drink beer Kerry my alcoholic ex has dried out ...Nigel is at home in London
Sipping his hot tea with foam but neither he nor I get milk nor cream and the slug leaves no offerengs
but an empty shell and a whithered up body and i think -he is more alive than me
Vashti Puls




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