it's a trick i pull

lucy with the football...this evil little upturn smile,
a withering leaf
mistletoe
pretty, and full of venom

when i wake up or turn around, the memories are there, like my grandmother's silk
waiting for a wedding, or a funeral...or both in one day as the case may be and sometimes is...

this tree, roots firmly in my stomache, has carved memories...electrical impulse branches snake out and beyond. it can't be helped. it's biological. each leaf is a flash, stamp, picture. this is why they call it a family tree. because it never stops growing, and it's roots are great, overbearing, heavy and dependable. It is home, comforting and burdensome - like ownership. Like love or devotion. Two very different things.