It was a bad, bad time.
This woman did not sing the blues, greens, or yellows.
Glorious at age 25.
A baroque disappointment at 30.
Tranquil she was not.
Disheveled she was.
A black woman she was.
A seeker of commitment.
A finder of “not readys.”
An encounter with a cornucopia of ghosts.
Glorious at age 25.
A baroque disappointment at 30.
It was a bad, bad time.
Living everyday inside her head.
With no respite for the wicked men-nequines that came her way.
Mom thinks she has split personality.
Tried to explain depression disorder.
To only have confusion be continuous.
It was such a bad, bad time.
I’d rather run with the bulls than to run with the blues.
Moodiness, Madness, and Love 