She had thoughts of continuing her book. The book that sat lazily in her mind and on a cloud somewhere. Perhaps, somewhere over, Canada.
Canada? Why the fuck not! Her wife had offered up, Mexico! And, though, South of the Border did offer some fine Tequila an a funky worm. The trek from Northern New Hampshire would surely send one of the six cats over the edge.
As a writer in earnest, Marie had known what it was like to be without a homeland! She lived out of her tent in a friend’s backyard, West side of Key West. And, though, it may not have seemed like Marie was quote unquote, poverty stricken…She had been living only on egg salad subs and cheap vodka for six months or more. Occasionally, stealing the lone bike that would lean against the random telephone poles down on Duval Street.
When Marie first arrived, the chickens running loose and the antiquated uni-sex bicycles concerned her. It seemed the furthest point away from sanity, one drunk could be
…Old Town Key West, was nothing more than a Cuban cigar waiting to be lit up! Filled with filth and history and tawdry experiences. Than after a good romp in the Florida sun with Marie’s newly found S n M queen/girlfriend, Jamie, things were not as bleak as they seemed.
After all, egg salad had been known for its nutritional value and vodka had very few calories…Particularly when drunk straight up.
And, whilst playing ‘remember when’…Homeland, popped up in Marie’s chaotic mind.
“Why should I be embarrassed? Run away like Anne Frank. Hide in an attic until President Doom and his militia come looking for my green card.”
Why it was just yesterday that a friend decided to ‘quit’ Facebook. That she no longer could bear the thought of reading post upon post about some jackass who cannot finish complete sentences. Marie had considered sticking her head in the ‘proverbial’ sand!
Yet, when ever thoughts of pulling a Rose O’Donnell. Nearing fifty and prone to arthritis, the going rogue and leaving the ‘nice’ girl act behind, all seemed intriguing behaviors for a new-found disgust for America, but physically, not a possibility.
Furthermore, Marie and her wife were not ones to hide out in the woods. Shit, Marie couldn’t even get, Eileen to eat in cafe’s that were more than five miles past a city line.
Therefore, the idea of moving to Canada!
In the end, Canada, was a bad idea. Northern New Hampshire was bad enough. Pipes freezing. Daylight lasting fifteen minutes. Walking with the perpetual hunched look for six months out of the year.
And, so, the ‘book’ got taken out of the attics of Marie’s mind and…dusted off. She had a magnificent secret that she had wished to convey. The ‘book’ would be Marie’s pride and joy. Depicting her families lies, murder, suicide, babies born without a country.
Earlier today, Marie had gone to visit her ‘not aging politely or gently’ parents. As she sat in the sun room (a room that is to offer warmth on cold winter days…but fails to come through on its promises) Marie wondered…
Look at them?! Dementia, COPD, Martyrdom, Ignorance being Bliss!
The ‘book’ would have to wait for another day. Today she was busy being upset.
‘How dare my fucked up parents fall into the ‘too elderly and down trodden’ to be angry at them…group.