Divorced First-Wife of a President. [The Amsterdam Ballerina.]

How do I admit to The World,
I arrested my ex-husband
And have spindly-anxiety towards marriage.
I filed for seperation after 10 years in 1985
And the whole of society turned on me.
My adoptive father a spy-trainee.
And old bestowed on me the concept of:
Money, POWER, Respect.
I’ve had none.
Accomplish so and tither to the bone.

Awkward as it was,
I know I helped you along the way.
Confidence gleaming from time to time.
The One that got away.

It didn’t have to be so hard how ya cut the wound.
I rather you have merced me.

I still respond to Audrey when I hear it, these days.
And I watch Roman Holiday every Nov 11, as if it were still our anniversary.

You talked about how much I liked chocolate
And specifics of northern-pasta.
I only got into the talkies when you found me overdosed on fentanyl.
My own cure from Curie days.
And Marie was no virtue.
Audrey: Dogshit in German.
Hepburn: Mollusk of a Human.

Claire – Witch.

What could you do.
Blind and Deaf because I did it myself to stop the echo.
Rabbi, quench your kabbalah-desires and get out of my head.

I wish it would have been different Finch.
Atticus, used to be looked up to.
Your gardens and indifferences and all our sames.
I write Academy-Award Winning Movies.
What a sad cost to A Legacy of Spies.
I was the Axis and you were chaust.

Why stay here?
POW/MIA/KIA i paved that highway myself in 47.

I’ll never pay it off in emotional sentiments.
And sociopathic Buddha has all I’ve been since 1111 of any increment.
White girls like yours think it’s lucky.

Oh Gregory,
The turn-tables never feel right.

You smiled when I could still name all those bands from the California days.
Jerry Garcia and all your persona.
Shaping History, Secretly.
ANubis, like my cat.

Leave the Table.
I burned you as my saint when I took the oath to Family in 1213.
Somewhere in Dominicana when Santo Domingo was Fresno, Archsdale of Saxony.
And you decided to become Anglo.

We’ve always been at War.
Your crownies are my Partners.
I don’t know why it had to be this way.

Casablanca Print sits behind me in dismay.
Public Enemies as if you don’t know the indictment is 6 months away.
I had to turn you loose.

It’s never a win.
Just another day,
Filing papers.

Kill the Ego,
Or,
Die the facet-trying.

You’ll be my lil’ ol’ Whiskey Lullaby.
I’ll leave it at that, Pardnuh.