I dreamed I was Marilyn Monroe, and I kissed me.
I was so surprised.
I said, “Marilyn honey, I thought we were dead!”
“It is so wonderful to see us,” I chimed in.
“I missed us so much.”
I took my face in my hands and looked so deep
into my eyes I had to look away.
“Let’s get dressed and go get breakfast?” I suggested.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“But I just have to say I am such a wonderful sight.
Nothing’s been the same without me, Marilyn.”
We got dressed. I wore blue, I wore red, and I kissed
because I could, because I was beautiful, because I’d
missed me so much.
I was blonde, I was brown, fifteen and thirty-five
and smiling like sunrises
except in my eyes. We went to a 50’s theme diner
pretending not to see
the grubby pierced teenagers staring at me,
at me, at us.
Eating buttered toast, eggs, black coffee and bacon
a short stack of pancakes
smeared with grape jam, while under the table
I kept squeezing
my adorable knee. I simply couldn’t keep my hands
Couldn’t stop smiling sunrises at me and I was used
to the part
about the sadness in my eyes. I didn’t even care
it was so good
to see me, to see us alive again, after all of the
wondering, the searching
and lies. The answers all trapped in loose white
It had been awful without me
and as we got up to leave I took my hand tightly like I
might never let go again.
I was kind of hurting me but we understood
what we meant.
We understood that Norma Jeane Marilyn sometimes
needed to hold so tightly
because we could feel the world spinning,
and the abyss
was filled with purgatory and we could hear the
silence like screaming,
and no matter how much beauty we shined we could
never lose the taste of nothingness.
I grasped my hand even more tightly as we strolled
down the street
like bosom buddies with the most famous bosom
in the world.
It was like old times, imaginary times really,
when we had time
for a day to just be a girl feeling the sun warm on
our glowing skin.
“If only it could always be like this,” I said to the
me in red,
and I could not believe what I had just heard us say.
“Dammit!” I hissed.
“These bonds can only bring me grief with men,
and now this?
Not just a woman but my very own self? How many
times must I say it?
I see inside. I know what we hide and I refuse to
ever face it.
Not for us, not for anyone! And I may be somewhat
but we are not my type.”
The sun was still bright on the sidewalk but we were
trembling blue and red
and I shook me, screaming, “It was just breakfast!”
But I wrenched
away, running down the street in high heels, until…
staring at my beautiful back until… until…
Until I woke up.
I kind of stumbled to the bathroom, flipped on the
light and squinted
at my pale, greasy, bed-headed, funky-breathed
And then I kissed me.