Poem #15 Woodstock


She looked like a walrus
Plucking at her guitar
Drinking her whisky
She wanted to get far

Away from Boston
And her New England mom,
Who constantly reminded
Her of the failure
She’d become.

(smoking reefer in the attic
Married once to a drug addict
Her son’s doing well though
Managing coffee at Well’s Fargo.)

She goes to the doctor,
Who promises to heal her.
From the wounds 
of her womb
inherited 
from her mother. 


Life is bondage
‘prescriptions the rage.
She thinks she’s free
a delusion-made cage.

But she loves that house
His house,
in Woodstock,

though.

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