The Journey Begins

And
how
could
anyone
ever
understand
any
of
this
those
first
years
with
you,
razor-blades
in
my
stomach,
agony
of
sleeplessness,
burning,
inside
all night,
swallowing
endless
Pepto Bismol
tablets,
swigging Maalox
gobbling Rolaids
in
dark hotel rooms,
sure
I
was
going to die
before morning.

Always
that
feeling
of
death
of
coming to an end,
hanging over me.

In
the
beginning
how
you
trained
me
to
listen
to your
endless
stories,
stories
I'd heard
hundreds,
thousands of time
with
your eyes
riveted on me
your
hypnotic
monotonous voice
lulling
me unconscious
no matter
how hard I tried
to
stay awake.

And
the
horrible car rides,
driving through endless
time and space,
the heater at 90°f,
you motionless
inert
next to me,
no one speaking
for hours,
trying to stay
awake
not lose
consciousness,
Red Bull
black coffee
thousands
of
cashew nuts,
sometimes
losing control
completely
to
wake-up
finding we were
still on the road,
hadn't hit
anything yet.

Always the fear
that somehow
you would get hurt
the time your
fingers got caught
in the automatic window,
I was so ready
to die for your
pain that
moment
$2,000 dollars
hardly enough
to make it up to
you
(for weeks showing
your blackened
fingers,
each time
filling me with
guilt).
And
how
you
trained
us for years
to sit and listen
to
you
totally focused
riveted
on your every
word and gesture
every nuance
and subtlety of your
voice
now
able to stay
awake more
and, like the teacher
in school,
to give the answer
to your life story
that
we knew
by heart:
"When I lived
in Chicago, my
next door neighbors were..."
"Precinct Captains!"
"When I gave my talks
in America I
rode on..."
"Greyhound buses!"
"I gave a talk in...it was forty-below zero"
"Idaho Falls!"
"When I first got to
Gstaad, I stayed at..."
and my mind would
go blank, and I
couldn't remember.
How many thousands
of hours from
5 a.m. to 9 p.m.
for weeks, months,
year after year, you trained us
to
never leave the room
until you told us,
our kidneys bursting,
our stomachs
starving,
still we sat there with you
surrendered
as best we could
until you said,
"go."
and the others so
concerned:
"The food is
getting cold, go eat, there
won't be anything
left"
and still we sat there
"we'll go soon,
not too hungry today."
They would try to
bring plates of food.
then you would
focus on me with
those eyes burning into me
and talk non-stop
until the food was
cold and I hadn't tasted
a bite,
all the time
the people around us
unaware,
playing on their computers,
not seeing what was
happening
the incredible
point
of
it
all:
you think my life
was my own:
I belonged to him.
In all this,
all those years,
I never rebelled
never doubted
never questioned
except the money,
sometimes
but even in this
there was never
a choice,

I would give
him everything anything
even
unto
death.