(put your stereotypes in a can and shake)
I was stuck in the gaze of the great gorgon mother, all love-me and smother and did she feed me extra dessert and did I get that blanket for my feet? False promises, I was a young man in need of affection, she a directionless vortex, daughter of divorce sucking in all sympathy guilt and feeling to feed her inferiority, to make her mammoth all attention-sponge and no product, no space to breathe air in her conversations, all complaint and no inquiry, nothing left for the universe and when war broke out, she cared only for mirrors from her roofless foundation-cracked house, her diaries and anecdotes heedless of objects worshipping her as a subject, the devil in melodramatic details, deadening drill of ‘your day? Lemme tell you about mine.' Was she self-absorbed, feeling this and feeling that, not “I’m just a girl” but “I’m every woman” she said but coyness a lack of politics and is this feminism? Fashion mags at checkout aisles is this feminism? She scrapped civilization ate the cosmos and bought Cosmo and I’m getting stupider just thinking about - not feeling - her.