egg nogs
when she was 5
my sister needed
them, skinny
and blond to
keep up her
weight, lured
with chocolate
and coffee,
strawberry
flavors. Glass
straws with
clowns, a mug
of Howdy Doody,
Just one more
sip my mother
wooed while
I slunk into
the back ground,
my fat thighs
under a too
long for a
girl of 9ıs
dress, ate
m and mıs
in the cove
of the brown
chair, lost
in a book
or a dream
where Iıd be
popular, blonde
and skinny,
any unbeaten
egg string was
slime, horrid
as the sentipedes
iffensive as seeing
³Kike² on a black
board or hearing
³fattie² whispered
and my mother
would take new
eggs out,
start again. At
my sisterıs now,
my mother who has
gone from 120 to 114
to 90 pounds has
Carnation shakes
with Hagendaaz
ice cream mixed
in tho my sisterıs
husband says its
so expensive. I
shake in another
state the same
weight as my
mother tho 5
inches taller,
my dark mahogany
hair bleached to
sun in a house
with no corckpots,
mostly oranges,
coffee beans.
I think I picked
one without a
real kitchen.
Iıve never made
chicken soup,
the idea of
cooking is like
a dog paddling
across the Pacific
for the east coast
but becoming a
woman who looks
good in mini skirts
the second time
around
and this
week gets love
letters from
Hono lulu
Maui, Laguna
Beach and San
Diego making me
know Iım some
thing of a wizard
a witch as I make
a list: celery,
carrots, chicken
even gingeroot
for a charm,
wanting to do
yet knowing it
will never be
enough
lyn lifshin
