Patti Masterman

Decompensation - Poem by Patti Masterman

Endless cold winter days and even longer nights-
I can get so philosophical at times.
Strange memories and thoughts start to taunt me:
Does the weatherman really keep mentioning 'The wedding? '
(Eighty years ago no weatherman was the cornerstone of anyone's daily plans)
And did I really kill that La Brea woman, thousands of years ago
Bash her skull in, and push her into the tar pits, to hide it:
Her skeleton found eons later, and placed on display in a museum
So that now she has a large pseudo-monument
To commemorate what I did, so long ago.
Is she really reincarnated as that redhead at church who gets on my nerves
Because everything I try in an attempt to get away from her, has the same result:
If I killed her, a new religion would no doubt spring up from her very blood-
And I can imagine all the rationalizing that I might use to finish her off now
Was the same I might have used back then by the asphalt pools.
Winter obsessions or paranoid paramnesia:
No bright, hot sun to deflate all the hallucinations
Bouncing around in the reflective deep freeze.
Just my psyche making up a little cold weather drama to amuse itself?
There's not always a full moon around to blame it on.
As long as it's just a hidden wrinkle inside my brain, it's fine
But if the thought police ever come round, I'm done for.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 11, 2010

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