The playground in the park down the street sits empty
Collecting heat waves in replacement of children’s fingerprints.
When I say the word Playground today
I still envision the bare metal bars on cement from yesterday.
Olympia is as still as the playground today.
Returning to the slow languid movement of a small progressive town
I feel home beating inside me as I begin to
Come back into myself.
LadyFest:
Womyn stomping and stamping the streets with girls in their pockets
And hearts on their sleeves.
Kimya, Traci, Von Iva and The Gossip oozing revolutions
Into my chest.
Have I forgotten to catch my breath again?
No, no. I have found it,
It is here
Right next to me
Inhaling a rainbow full of too much color.
Germany, Texas, Portland, Seattle, Arcadia, Virginia and Maine
Pile up on the sidewalk in the long strip of shade.
The bank’s revolving sign read 104 degrees from I-5
As we piled up to Seattle in gridlock traffic on Sunday afternoon.
My soul food appears on every street corner
And I am drunk on love, admiration, inspiration and joy.
My community is RADICAL!
My blood runs hott like a woman who is ready to be touched
After a long winter of abstinence.
3am reads the clock as I bury my head
in this pillow, in this bed, in this house for the last time tonite.
Thoughts of packing and moving buried long before.
The most fabulous Crustie Crew of
5 1 sing Pirate songs from the back of the truck
with their Pabst cans balancing on the tops of hazardously packed boxes.
New House. Old House. There are ghosts here in this house
That kiss me goodnite and stir longing into my coffee in the morning.
I am going, going, going like
The good little ant that I am:
Strapping my fears and inhibitions
Onto my belt as I ride that roller coaster to the very top.
And even though I know another drop is coming
I feel secure and grounded.
I am glad this place is Home.
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