THE NOTE

THE NOTE

In 1968
my two girl friends and I stood
on the corner
outside of school
the last day of classes
We joked
about going to school in 1969
We huddled together
and carefully
unfolded the note.
The paper was pressed
in half, lengthwise
then in half lengthwise again
Bobby had then taken the long thin column
and creased it triangularly
all the way up the long paper white formation
and finally tucked that last quarter inch inside, itself.
After taking her time undoing
as to not tear the precious piece
Charlene smoothed the
lined notebook paper
across her thigh
with her hand
Finally,
after inhaling deeply
she repeated what she read
Charlene,
I really like you.
Bobby
We giggled like school girls
because, after all
we were.
I remember this
forty some years later
and I wonder
will girls from today
remember a text
the same way?

 

 

 Thasia Anne

YOU, WHO

YOU, WHO;

I came from deep peace, to dreadful sleep

Crawling, screaming, and scraping, from the blackness

I then broke surface, gasping for air.

You, who entered my window, my bedroom, and my life

to destroy everything I ever knew about me.

You, who held the shiny silver blade tight against my neck.

You, who smelled of cigarettes, beer, and belligerence, stole everything.

I was sweet, innocent and good-natured, and going places.

You were the detour from hell, and

I never quite found my way home.

However, I will never let you own me.

You did your despicable deed and are done.

Now I move on, to better places.

Scrubbing and scraping the traces of you from my skin.

I will begin anew.

Help arrived on white horses with courses of antibiotics

and the removal of anything neurotic that you left behind.

Doctors, nurses, law enforcement, and counselors

did their best to shore up my spine and mind.

They gave me the resolve to never let you, who tried to steal me,

ever have power over me again.

Now, it is you, who has to worry.

You, who behind bars, now know the fears that grow when you try to sleep deep.