Better to Avoid Her


Luci Tapahonso

I don't even care to see her
her bushy hair
was so nice the night before
those bleary eyes almost closed
smeared mascara shiny with waiting tears
(she can turn them on anytime
you know         those tears just wait
like that         brimming
it doesn't work on me, I told her once
don't cry to get my sympathy.)
her lips bloated
from talking and crying
nights of beer beer beer
and crazy conway twitty
moaning and groaning
play guitar play
(I hate it,)
her face is puffy
reddened from booze
long unknown nights
and who knows what else.
Sometimes I avoid her completely.
She never learned to dance western
but she thinks so
moving clumsily at powwow club
almost falling with each turn
navajo cowboys don't dance
with the likes of her.
once as a child
I came across a small mangled lamb
blood smeared in the soft young wool
I cried then
closing its moist dark eyes
I asked god through gritted teeth
why? why?
it was so good god
warm and happy
I picked it up
crying out loud
for its helplessness
its stupidity
not knowing enough
to stay off the road.
But her
she knows better
she's not helpless
and I stopped crying for stupidity long ago

so it's better if she avoids me too.

From Seasonal Woman by Luci Tapahonso, Tooth of Time Books.
© 1982 Luci Tapahonso

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