Instead of my social evening, a pool party of a few women poets,
on the couch writing about 3 random words from a hat, a workshop:
Jesus, abuse, mystical, which was my name tag Biologist/Mystic.
The young beautiful Poet Laureate flashed her teeth and slammed
about 100’s of Juarez women murdered and mutilated by corrupt men.
A mythical woman who donned a blonde wig and shot to death two rapists.
She said she was Queer and I went to fill my paper cup with more beer.
You must be right, meaning I am broken and still must be there,.
In the field, visible to anyone who needs a lesson in brokenness.