Poetry & Painting
I Don’t Remember Much… \\ Sitting Pretty \\ Self Portrait
I Don’t Remember Much…
I fixed my hair
And straightened my shirt.
I checked my phone for what felt like
The 100th time
To confirm
Again
The door was right.
I don't remember
Who opened the door?
I'm sure I said hello as I smiled.
I don't remember much.
I do remember
Discreetly putting the money in my purse,
and sending one text:
I'm here.
All is good.
See you in one hour.
This wasn't my first, nor my last.
It wasn't my best
It was far from my worst.
I wore a cardigan.
Hot pink.
Cropped.
Short sleeves.
It had teeny white bows on it.
I still have it.
My simple black ballet flats were sitting by the door.
I don't remember
Where I placed my purse.
It was a specific purse I used for these days.
It was white,
Wildly impractical.
And
Way
Too
Small.
I loved it.
I don't remember why.
But I remember how happy I was to be wearing those
size 3
Distressed skinny jeans.
I don't have them anymore.
I don't remember
Much of that day.
It was Easter weekend.
I don't remember
Why I hadn't gone home.
But I do remember
That day, I felt
A new feeling.
A surge.
Not of passion.
Not of lust.
Or of anger.
Or sadness.
Not of happiness.
I don't remember
The exact moment I felt it.
But I do remember
It was a surge
That has stayed with me
For 10 years
A surge
Of
Pure
Self Esteem.
I remember,
That money in my purse.
It was tangible.
It felt indisputable.
This man handed me...
ME??!!
his hard-earned money.
For only one hour of my time.
And was happy about it.
I remember.
I don't remember.
What my percentage was.
I remember it didn't matter.
He didn't know me.
My photo was faceless.
I don't remember him.
He may have forgotten me.
But
After I fixed my hair
And straightened my shirt,
And checked my phone for what felt like
The 100th time
To confirm
Again, that I was at the right door.
He heard my knock,
And opened,
Happy to see me.
I don't remember
Much about that day.
But I remember.
That feeling.
Sitting Pretty
Self Portrait
