the rix mix

When my divorced alcoholic mom
was having a drawn out nervous breakdown
that would last the rest of her life,
I packed my portable organ & amplifier,
some clothes & records into a Volkswagon beetle
& moved out.
For a few nights I slept on a friend's porch,
then took a furnished room in an old lady's house.
My dad, about to remarry, visited me there,
pleaded with me to go home. I refused.
I had to give the Beetle back.
I got a job at a large record store
& bought a Rambler for two hundred bucks.
Then my beautiful, sensual ballet dancer girlfriend
who gave great oral sex & had just graduated from high school,
concluded I was no longer cool,
broke up with me while I was stoned at a party.
dumpimg me for a guy nicknamed "Tripping Jimmy."

**
Found in a file on the desktop. Her thing with the freak didn't last long. Much later she apologized for the lousy way she broke up, not the only time an ex-lover has done it, but a remarkable admission for her.

Labels: growing up, poem