In Reality

For the longest time I thought I might become

someone else.

I could be Norwegian and learn the language well so people would say how

no one could tell I wasn’t a native.

My hair would miraculously turn blond.

It would be ok to like sex.

I like the sounds of their desserts.

Or I could be a lawyer in Manhattan wearing crispy tight suits in black with very high heels and click click click across the court room floor stating my case with brilliant red lips and always winning.

Rootless like a malformed carrot I

refuse to flourish in one place.

I know this is a  problem this rootlessness.

It’s prevented me from 

applying myself  to much of anything: love, housekeeping, friendship, home repair… you get the story. I kept a suitcase filled with cash hidden in my house and a bag packed with essentials which changed from month to month.

Now my rootlessness fits right in. No one is going anywhere but everyone would like to be rootless.

Where will I go when I can go anywhere?

Hawaii because I can’t get the music of palm trees out of my head.

Like Eloise, I could move into the Four Seasons hotel on the Big Island and go down to dinner every night sitting at the bar overlooking the lapping ocean generously tipping the bartender so that he always saved my seat.

And oh yes there is the spa with palm leaves that rattle above your hut while you are having a massage. Preferably a Lomi Lomi massage and I don’t know what that is.

I have entertained myself all day thinking of places I would like to go when I can go anywhere. Frankly, it may be better in my imagination. That’s been a life long problem of mine.

Person of Interest

“I bought a trailer because I joined a gang.

My feet itched and my rain was shutting

down so I became a nomad

something I’ve always wanted to be.

Some language has a word for it: people

who don’t feel like they belong anywhere.

That’s me. I’m pretty old so I was worried

about camping places

alone. Don’t get me wrong I’ve got two

dogs but they haven’t been trained for

anything

but disobedience which I am fond of.

I am old now so no one would be interested

never knowing that I have a flipstack of cash

stored in my hubcaps: left front and right

rear.

I’ve always liked going north.

It doesn’t matter where I start

I just like heading north.

And I like it

Alone”

Taken from the Missouri Star interview with Lulu Roamer photographed in front of her Teardrop camper

Last Woman on Earth

I am the last woman on earth.

I live alone in my house and every day I do the Schedule:

yoga, coffee, meditation, breakfast, look out the window, laundry,

make the bed,

take a shower, take a walk, lie on the floor, wait for the dogs to

jump on me, eat stuff from the fridge,

gaze into it awhile. Brush my hair.

Add blush. Add mascara after thinking about how long it will take

to remove later.

No lipstick.

Yesterday I considered a small glass of red wine with breakfast.

I can’t remember the day.

My neighbor’s new dog barks

enough to make napping problematic.

I drink a lot of tea with half and half and maple syrup which is

tastier than sugar.

After 6 my garage is a café for friends

and dinner comes in white cardboard boxes. We slip food under

our masks like horses with feed buckets or dogs with muzzles.

We are dreamers who believe

next month will bring hope back and neighbors come

two by two

like passengers on Noah’s Ark

run aground and have a hard time leaving.

I’m glad for the distraction and for the wine and anesthesia.

I don’t tell anyone about the hopelessness.

A Letter

My neighbor’s husband died at

98 and I should write a letter but it’s been so long since I’ve done so

even finding the stationary is as hopeless as finding  an honest man.

I like the instruments of communication: the fine, heavy pen with

black and gold scroll on its stem and the thick, ecru

cards matched like dancing class with their own envelopes lined with forest green

tissue so thin it might tear and stop protecting those elegant phrases underneath.

Often, when I was younger, I wrote for the sake of using these implements,

just as I spoke for the sake of using my voice. Having no real desire to let someone

know my thoughts, a letter or a song, or a line in a play, could communicate different

realities I chose  with ease. Holding my Koh-I Noor Rapidograph .13 Technical pen like a

curtain between two worlds transcribing, ghostwriting, makes it safe to say anything I

dream of now.

Two days before the Inauguration

Everything is still. I never understand why there isn’t a drumroll when the sun comes up particularly these days. I got rid of my gun. Well, that’s not completely true. I got rid of my ammo which seems the same. I think I’ll just sit and wait for the revolution. On my front porch legs askew drinking beer I’ll wait for them to walk up to my front door and say who the hell are you? I’ll tell them quite calmly that I’ve been trying to answer that question most of my life. It doesn’t matter where you live as there’s no security anywhere. Today it’s so quiet but I know it will be very noisy on Wednesday. I’ve found that’s generally true. Right before a major explosion there’s an unearthly quiet that itches into your skin. Even the dogs are restless. The big one sighs heavily every hour or so. Sometimes when you’re in a really bad situation you try to back out of it. I’ve had this feeling before. I’m thinking to myself no this isn’t what I wanted to have happen but it’s too late. I think it’s too late for this country to right itself and make everybody get along.Rich people are trying to get vaccinated before everybody else. Poor people don’t want to be vaccinated as they think it’s a trick. Maybe it is.

I never thought I would spend the end of my life sequestered but on the other hand maybe it’s a good practice for what comes afterwards.

Minnow

Today I was watching an

insignificant film in which a

young girl traveling in Italy with her

Dad was swimming in a hotel

pool doing laps inside of the

20 foot bowl back and forth

and I started to

cry. Only in Italy do they have

hotel pools carved out of marble

lipped with travertine, lined with

Carrera, filled with the water of

Aquaducts and baptizing tears.

I saw my daughter at 12, a swimming

minnow,

Black haired and glistening, and I

remember promising her we

would return with her

daughter to a pool in Italy

someday. I wonder if anything

I promised will come true…