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LUCY DOUGAN I Went ... (that words can't) I went to my mother at the Trade Winds Café and she said this is my story, not yours. There and then the winds turned south. I went to my father that I call my father and he said don’t make me get that DNA test… I’ll do it! I went to my uncle in the Mountains who wrote a long letter to stop up the gaps. He said you’re a fairytale, a chance meeting on a bus without suspension, a cabin full of roses. I went to my dying aunt who added I always loved you a bunch. I went to my future husband with beers and the long sorry story. He said you’re all class. I went to my sister who said she always wanted the accordion and the big doll they took away. I went to my children but always, and from the moment of their births, they wanted me for other things (which was a big relief). I went to my sisters and brother in San Giorgio and they said we have no word for half, your face belongs here. I went to the mirror and the mirror said don’t look at me, I can’t help it if your face says things that words can’t. I went to the ashes of my father that I call father and my mother’s lover and asked them if they thought we could all rub along together. Finally, nobody said anything and I was happy with that.
LUCY DOUGAN
I Went ... (that words can't)
I went to my mother at the Trade Winds Café and she said this is my story, not yours. There and then the winds turned south. I went to my father that I call my father and he said don’t make me get that DNA test… I’ll do it! I went to my uncle in the Mountains who wrote a long letter to stop up the gaps. He said you’re a fairytale, a chance meeting on a bus without suspension, a cabin full of roses. I went to my dying aunt who added I always loved you a bunch. I went to my future husband with beers and the long sorry story. He said you’re all class. I went to my sister who said she always wanted the accordion and the big doll they took away. I went to my children but always, and from the moment of their births, they wanted me for other things (which was a big relief). I went to my sisters and brother in San Giorgio and they said we have no word for half, your face belongs here. I went to the mirror and the mirror said don’t look at me, I can’t help it if your face says things that words can’t. I went to the ashes of my father that I call father and my mother’s lover and asked them if they thought we could all rub along together. Finally, nobody said anything and I was happy with that.