no one gives a fig, I know

August 2, 2011

Page One

Bye, bye Miss American pie….   don mclean ……  that good old amerikan pie. made of owning your own home, 2 and a third children, some degree of financial stability, some degree of freedom to run your own home in your own way, to increase your income if you wish, to drive a car, to some level of self-determination. I said good-bye to that juicy pie full of home-grown amerikan apples long ago, when I was twenty-six years old, single, and pregnant. I didn’t know at the time of course that I was watching the pie be snatched away from me and eaten all up by others. I thought all was temporary. I thought the plate would be passed round to me again, and that I, one day, would get my generous and sweet slice. but nowI’m fifty-eight.  in thirty-two years below the poverty line, I have never had another shot at that pie, and I never will. those of you who’ve got your slice, or even half of it, have no clue what it’s like to be the beggar at the feast and be denied all but the crumbs. you have no clue, and you don’t want to.

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no one out there in reader-land, I’m fairly certain, chomping away on his or her bits of pie, wants to read the everyday realities or the everyday thoughts and struggles and hurts of an amerikan living below the poverty line. no one at all. but it seems there’s a need in me to write these things. I press on, then, writing to whatever empty air exists between the invisible electronic workings of microchips and little wires.

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read…   Mugsy’s book…  All my stars

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