Pig and farm report

 

15° when I woke this morning after a night spent dreaming about Tom Cruise an oddball fascination of mine that apparently has never stopped even though I don’t think about him now in awake hours  

quiet in body and mind the delicious ease of morning    vegetable soup on the hob thick soft naan I made yesterday wrapped in a tea towel   lingering excitement of yesterday’s first brief snowfall   

before the house wakes I am 18 or 19 I am living on the mountain getting up to milk the goats standing still as a cloud settles down until it reaches my feet and hide them   it feels like floating 

None of this is writing writing it’s old person rambling I catch myself doing it every once in a while but I don’t care this thing that happens when I am flooded with memory   washed over a baptism every time a soft feminine fever   with bready angel wings yeast in the font   

now I am collecting bees in a jar at four my brother convincing me to crawl into the neighbor’s window to thieve whatever might interest four year old and five year children   now at 50 having a panic attack right before being slid into the terrifying hole of the mri birdcage snapped firmly over my head   now at 29 I’m camping on Camano Island with my toddler son building a fire in the morning thinking how lovely it would be to live here some day   now again at 19 on the mountain baking bread for 12 people on a frozen morning a cloud still floating in my body   now remembering in my seventh decade   now at 26 getting married but in love with someone else  

I understand Alice’s changing deeper than ever  here this morning with a cat on my lap and one at my feet in front of a propane fire and I know this is good and pure and right

Dear Tom Cruise’s Weird Teeth,

TomCruiseTomCatTommyTommy if you told me to put my hands down get in the car I would even if I just watched you kill a man I’d keep breathing if you asked me to be your pretty girl stickgirl with pattycake breasts gaze into your starey INTENSE HAZEL EYES do what you asked in spite of you being a level above CLEAR I’d be your stickgirl hide Klonopin and Lithium in gluten free vita-muffins that I’d bake from scratch with dairy free frosting to cure you from your twitchy needs all your polars and I’d never Blow I’d let you stick an E-meter in my head while I chanted TOMTOMTOM and waited for you to get level med-compliant you’d give me a Liberty Boat a Prada bag and a snowmobile I’d be your tall bendy stickgirl we’d become Universal Unitarians or Methodists no one would take our photos unless we asked your hair would find its gray I’d get thinner and thinner I’d stop eating for your love my Thetan to your Xenu no leaks your billion year contract stickgirl in magazines and interviews at every movie you make with popcorn extra grease in the middle and Twizzlers in Aspen your brand new stickgirl brand new religion bang bang hard rolling hips slap hands and fire you’ll love me like a sticky sugar-tit horse I’ll even do my own stunts except for those that involve crawling inside anything then we’ll go to Hollywood the Holyland and sail the boat on weekends.

Love,

Becky

Your Stickybun Stick Thetan Girl Princess