lavender cobwebs

let me tell you a story, son,
about last friday, at the mosque
we covered our hair and torsos, bright flaming scarves
we knelt with the other women, we greeted the men
we shared rice and lentils and sodas with the leader afterward
taken aback by the unassuming hospitality
so many of our perceptions shattered, we were welcomed.

let me tell you a story, daughter,
about wednesday in the psychiatry ward
the lady talking to us with towels covering her face
the whispered curses by the walking ill
the one obsessed with death

and her, called Dreamer, confirmed catholic & white witch conglomerate,
interested in buddhism & physics,
smart & young & manic

and him, facing the window, legs crossed
radio-headphones-set covering both ears
and i can hear kelly clarkston blaring from across the room

and i breathe. i breathe so i don't die.