I talked to my sister;
My grandmother,
Every one is feeling good.
And if you know us better,
It's always like this.
We can ask, beg, forgive, believe..
Some thing like this.
When I wrote poems for my first book,
I never published ..
Everything was in it,
All my experiences:
Parents, their forever divorce without hope,
Chickens, pig, dogs and kittens,
Little farm in our apartment,
Old women who could heal anything with a touch,
Strangers in leather jackets asking what's funny today,
And I had a nickname, woman from the best gang song.
How long ago...
Another ones reporting my mom if I was with my father, family friends..
And I wrote about love.
The publishers told me it's boring:
One woman, one man,
Ate you crazy?
No one is hiding under the couch.
I was told to rewrite it..
