yesterday they, were suspicions, maybe paranoia. today my worst fears have been confirmed. it happened during a stroll in park slope. i’m obsolete. the men don’t need me anymore. they can clean, cook, wash, entertain themselves, etc. unreal. i've been with them 3 days and it seems that in a month they have jumped out of reality and into their own private utopia.
my mothering them is over; it's both unnecessary and rejected. in my hand i hold my carcass, deflated. these feelings and the city keep me constantly aroused, introspective. i want to enjoy it but i cant. i want to, but every hidden corner begs me to think, to self-indulge. it’s a way to take care of myself, if not in body, although I am walking a lot, but at least in spirit.
straight out of a telenovela, i feel betrayal. i have poured myself into these beings, both father and son, only to be alienated from them. i'm insecure, cracking under pressure, my person shattered, scattered, even tattered onto the debris of the city. there it goes, so passive aggressive, swept by the department of sanitation, by the wonderful transsexual who sweeps her corner of the park incessantly in black patent leather heels and white faux silk stalking. i’ve seen her every day. she’s undeterred, sweeping and sweeping but the dirt never stops. tourist pass by and throw trash right at her feet, she’s never rude she just smiles and sweeps in onto her ladle thingy. it’s her job. just ike being a mom is my job. and it's as endless and thankless as sweeping the city.
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