Another Move - and TRAIN BIRTH

July was full with moving and shopping. I hate shopping probably more than the average person and put it off as long as I can.

 Moving is living in the past the present and future all at the same time. Regular work, meals and sleep interrupted. Dependence on others constant. But here I am. Back in New York City. This time in the West Village on the Hudson River with my daughter and a tuxedo cat who caught a mouse our first week and let him go.

From my apartment I can hear the highway  traffic but I also feel a cool breeze from the river at night. There is no view like my first apartment in Manhattan in '83, a sublet on the UES. Since leaving Detroit in '81, I have moved about a hundred times.

People write books about moving. I doubt if I would write a book about it. However, I do write shorter pieces about moving.

"Train Birth" is the opening monologue from my solo show, The Drunk Monologues.

This story/poem will be published this year in "Ultra Short Memoir" by Telling Our Stories Press in print.  It's weird to have to say "in print" but with so many websites on the internet, it's wonderful to be in a book. To become part of a tradition. To be in a library.

TRAIN BIRTH

I was born in motion

the train rocking and surging

metal against metal

I popped out on a double seat

in a little town called Puce,

which is French for flea,

or so  they tell me

fifteen miles east of Windsor, Ontario

Canada.

Water blood afterbirth

and my mother's tears

mixed with clapping and cheering

and a champagne toast.

some fell on me

and at birth

I was already moving

         and drinking