Most Tuesday nights I meet with some people to play go at a Perko’s cafe in Willits, 25 minutes north of where I live in Ukiah. Last Tuesday, as I finished my last game for the evening, I overheard one of the waitresses talking with some customers—people she clearly knew—about problems with her daughter. As I left I got curious and asked her about it, and she laid out the story for me.
Years ago, when her daughter was very young, she was addicted to drugs. Her judgment impaired, she sometimes left her daughter with baby sitters of questionable character. Something happened during this time that she to this day has no knowledge of, because her daughter won’t open up about it to anyone. But there’s enough behavioral evidence to suggest she was molested, or worse.
In recovery now from the drug abuse, she strives to make up for her past neglect. But the damage is done, and she struggles to raise an extremely intelligent, angry, resentful nine year old who seems to be developing sociopathic tendencies. As I drove home, potential lines began to manifest to mind in relation, which later built upon themselves to metamorphose into this poem.
from here
