Hell in America

puke

blowing chunks up my nose

liquid diarrhea out my ass at the same time

oh god the nausea

I think it was brought in by constipation. My mother always called it a stomach bug.

My childhood went on for so long.

I was a horrible child. I had the wart-mole and the broken crotch and no understanding of this. i washed ? every couple of months? I remember scraping the thick yellow grease from my hair and the crud from my teeth. I wore my hair in a long braid. Because my mother did as a child. I had two British child World War II survivors for parents. Nobody on the New Jersey suburban block cared for us.

I laid around reading books all day long. After a while I just read the words not understanding any more. i read books from my father’s bookshelves that were not age appropriate.

My mother forced me to “play” with the other little girls on the block when I had nothing to do.

I remember the alarm going off in the morning and having to get up. Wishing that I could send a robot child to school. And then, it was sort of like that. Somehow i got there and morphed into a being who could fit in somehow. Children are forgiving. At least in early grade school.

There was this mythical place called “England” where everything was perfect. My mother hadn’t wanted to emigrate.