listening to lady gaga on a morning walk in mission trails

It’s just after 6am

when we arrive, my

mother points north

that way to fortuna

it’s a tough one, she

warns

but I’m tired of

flat terrain

staying safe, I’m

weary of carrying

the fear of hills

and slippery rocks,

I can no longer

bear the weight

of my secret

so old I don’t know

when it began its

descent

deep. maybe

when I was

four

where do you feel it?

my friend asked

the other day

everywhere

it’s sneaky

that way, it

knows it must

stay silent

or else it all

unravels

I walk slow

up and up

fortuna in my

new hiking

shoes, I feel

every stone

still, I make

my way

when I escaped

the nightmare

all I wanted was

to re-imagine

a new me—not

the behind the

eight-ball version,

the sins of the

fathers version, I

wanted only to be

a loving mama

and wife

I tried to be

the rock

but I cracked

and the secret

oozed out

black sticky

oozy tar-like

shrill banshee

howls, like

the pack of

coyotes down

in the canyon

my friend asked

who I would

be without my

secret, if I let

the ooze

ooze

I said I’d

sing

at the top of

my lungs

and later, as I am

making my way

back down

fortuna, with

music in my ears,

lady gaga pops on

to the playlist

singing something

about being at the

end of her rope and

when she belts,

I don’t wanna hear

nothing from you

I scream-sing her

words to the sky

and sage and coyotes

and the secret oozes

out, all messy and

sticky, my tears

all messy and sticky,

my eyes unable to

see as the sun is rising

and without even

realizing, I find

I’m flying downhill.