Monica
Monica, you little imp, my lithe waif of a friend with your
great sense of humour and your shiny eyes behind the
owlish glasses resembling mine, your dancing tongue
singing songs of daredevil deeds while your kind mama*
clicked her tongue - we confided our sorrows to each
other - thank you for listening, your camouflaged letter
In which you explained source of your pain still clasped
to my heart - the delight in your face when I detailed the
phobias of my youth when there lived a big geyser in our
bathroom, an evil genie, I feared it was going to fall on
us so we made the geyser believe that we were his
friends by singing to it - but the washcloth, the soap
The toothbrush and I knew it was subterfuge - we were
not really his friends, just making sure the geyser would
not topple and then crush all of us - I was surprised you
found it so funny and ever afterwards, I fondly recalled
my friendship with the washcloth, the soap & the tooth-
brush- and our friendship with You, Monica my Love!
[*Your Kind Mama - my guardian, Tannie Yvonne DuPlessis]
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