I Am

I am the interim,

The woman in between

The love you lost and the love that earns your heart.

The interim is me.

We will sing and dance through all our days

With feet bare and loose hair.

I will take off my clothes when you’re in the mood.

Dancing and singing and loving will compose us.

I will cook for you, three meals a day,

And clean your house and wash your clothes.

I will not do these things well,

But you can count on something to eat, something to wear.

I will comb your hair, and I will braid it

Like a warrior or a lover to fit your mood.

You will never feel the tangles when I comb them.

We will shower, and I will wash your hair for you.

We will drive at night, and smoke,

And sometimes we will stop beside the water

Or visit the mountains and dream of living there.

And when we dream, we will laugh without control.

Then eventually, something will happen to (you and me),

A separation that only occurs

Because what can’t exist can’t last for long.

Always, I must go my own way,

Out of the interim, into the woman between.

A friend who had visited my house often was leaving forever for New York to make his mark in theatrical production.  On his last visit, he said to me that my house was a place for people who were stuck in between where they’ve been and where they’re going.  He meant it as a compliment.  I take such statements seriously that reflect myself in someone else’s eyes.  There is usually some truthful substance.  This friend’s observation found resonance in me, and I began to see a lot of my life in that light.  

Why are we here?  Roll the bones.