Thursday, March 17, 2011

Stealing The Color (The New Yorker)

Stealing The Color

Some terrible thing has happened to this girl.
I draw it just so I can remember it.
A beautiful garden,
Willow trees, roses,
everything symmetrical.

Sexual bewilderment.
You could smell that they're using you.

Flashbacks in the garden
She abandoned herself
She was disturbed by
the police presence, the dark clothes,
the disappearance of nail polish.
Life was nothing like what she remembered.
It was as if everything lost color and suddenly
went to black-and-white.

She was in love.
And that dream she had fell apart
She was raped.

The minute you get to the garden, it becomes realistic.
She just jumped off the roof
into the garden's eerie calm.
Following a dead woman down the street,
She becomes a ghost.

That garden completely changed my life.

It separated us,
Women Without Men

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