Letter To My Ten-Year-Ago Self

I come to you in dreams, in tides of your blood,

but you disregard the messages I’ve brought,

you forget your dreams, and chalk the belly cramps up to The Change.

LISTEN to me! I wish I could shake you from your stupor.


Or perhaps the darkhairdyes, maybe the bras or the Teflon (whichisknowntokillsmallbirds)? Maybeitwasstress (and by the way, your career is about to careen over a cliff like a train on a collapsing trestle). Maybe it was your marriage, with thetwoofyouinarelationshiptotheanimals’feedingschedule.

You may not have much time. In a few years you will discover  Stage III breast cancer. Live deeply, right now. Do not wait!


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