I remember the oak tree in the back yard. It had a swing.
I remember the days I would lay there, with my sister or alone,
on small plaid blankets that we were given as babies.
And I remember looking up at the sun through the leaves
And how the wind would sound through the branches.
I wanted to lay there with you and hold your hand.
I wanted to share something beautiful with you.
But the tree out back is gone,
And so is my childhood home.
And we are so changed.
You never existed. The boy I gave my heart to down a telephone line and wanted to bring into my family and lay with on my baby blanket in the home I'd lived in my entire childhood never existed.
And I felt cheated.
And I feel lost.
And I am a fragment of the picture you once saw.
I have no home. I have no history. My sister now lives 50 miles away.
And I can't find that damn blanket,
I can't find it.
As if everything would fall into place if I did,
Like everything would finally make sense. . .