April 10th Poem

Pink Moon Self-Portrait  

Once I told a poet at a bar that I was having difficulty.  "Oh, Joanna," she said.  "Don't have difficulty."  I laughed at myself then, at all of it.  I tried to leave for the woods to stare at a fire, but the poets came and sat on my log, talking about the job market.  True story of difficulty.  Perhaps you will understand if I tell you that I sat in the driveway for a good five minutes before getting out of the car this afternoon, wondering if I should call someone because a squirrel was looking at me funny.  Finally I honked the horn to make it go away.  Then honked again.  It's like what Virginia Woolf said--if you could see what really moves through your friends' minds throughout the day, you'd be appalled.  Once something really odd gave me the giggles in a college fiction class, and the guy sitting next to me said, "That's exactly the kind of thing that would make her laugh."  The wave of affection I felt for myself then would appall you.