it was an early afternoon

it was an early afternoon, mid-august,
and I took myself to walk along the rocks
in the beaming sun, barefoot. I sauntered
forward, the scent of the Atlantic
sweeping through my nostrils.
I was late for everything
it was refreshing, and I sat,
my back against a sandy slope,
a changed woman.

"hullo."
I turn smiling,
gathering the figure behind me
is Mr. Thomas Idlewild, or a supposed
noble in tailored clothes, searching
for eyes and lips that wish to be upon him. but
instead of a lover's tongue
greeting the rear of my neck and
crawling toward my chin, I am
met with a father's unshaven face,
and crooked teeth that long to devour
a young maiden once again.
twice again.

my mother once told me every girl marries her father.

but this my mother never knew.
she was old and frail and deceived,
in illusion of their lucid love. and my father,
the sickly sinner witching upon me,
my sickly arms stretched in attempt to drive my
foe out of reach. I struggle helpless,
out of breath, inhaling cigarette smoke exhaled
from a smile deformed by crooked years.
but this my mother never knew,
and I cry out to her grave to tell her, but am
only answered by weather and
echoes of my own shuddering words.
I swear there is no God.

and now he turns smiling,
gathering, prodding me in his
mature, peasant carpenter arms.
and we remember this like yesterday
because it was yesterday. and tomorrow.
into the depths of this ford ranger
parked only feet from the freeway
where any passing prince might
teach my aggressor of agony, and
take me as his own, but
by the freeway and the beach I am forsaken.
get your fucking hands off me.

my mother once told me every girl marries her father.

so I tried to make sure he wasn't, that
he was true and passive to his word,
that he was real, a real Thomas Idlewild
taking me home. supporting and protecting,
leaving me released from these hates and pains,
being a door between me and my father. but
I was so terribly mistaken, defeated
by the masks they put on and upon me,
misguided in my means of escape, and
by the freeway, by the beach,
by my mother, by God
I am forsaken.