la brea 

today I crawled out of a tar pit.

I was walking two houses down 

where the church takes over the entire goddamned road 

and the neighbor with the Weimaraner waved. 

I think he knows I only acknowledge him for his choice in graceful companion 


I can’t stand his wife. 

I’ve lived here for 15 years.

I used to dig holes in the yard.

I played archeologist when the other girls played kissing boys.

I never liked boys.

they made me nervous. 

it’s probably because the first boy I liked dropped his pet snake under my shirt.

this is not a euphemism, 

it bit my neck.

although I experienced the latter 

much too early on, as well. 

l think the deepest traumas are the ones we don’t understand so well until the moment we understand them too well.

the types of epiphanies that come on like 

“oh, oh,

oh fuck..” 

they make you straighten out in your seat 

adjust your glasses 

and force the thought out..

sort of dive into the tar.

speaking of,  

I bet if someone pulled my lungs out 

they’d look like the curtains in a truth ad.

I bet they’d have that anti smoking campaign quality. 

you know, I quit but I still think about them everyday 

in fact, sometimes I dream I’m walking down an alley 

chainsmoking and petting stray cats in a foggy city 

even though I’m a sun bather 

much to my depression’s dismay 

today I crawled out of a tar pit.  

i mean, its possible 


– SC