Yes it’s true I ran away to the Russian River with a former student—in 1972 He was very tall and lanky (You could barely see him sideways) With gangly arms and legs and narrow hips—I called him Spider He hailed from Little Rock the capital of Arkansas and spoke without a drawl when he wanted to But I loved that lazy humid sound— Talk southern I would say It may have made one think he was slow witted But that was hardly the case As a teen he had taught himself yoga from a pilfered library book And still had an active daily practice including standing on his head for hours He inherited his waist long blue black hair from his Cherokee Granny And his height and eye color from the Norsemen on his father’s side On the night of our exhibition in a downtown gallery He drank too much and pulled his paintings from the walls And later that evening He slashed his wrists though not deep enough to die I brought him penicillin and clean bandages for the next few apologetic weeks On the nights we could get away We wore our cowboy boots in dingy country bars in the next town over Drank Southern Comfort and listened to Linda Ronstadt Often in the afternoons he brought his little girl over to swim with my little girls in the pool overhung with native trees covered with orchids and bromeliads They giggled together at the shallow end while we drank sweet tea and ate boiled peanuts We went downtown to see the Isadora movie when it came out I knew everything about her And had absorbed her wonderful dances that seemed so simple But left you in a sweat I hated the movie It was Vanessa Redgrave She didn’t fit the part Isadora wasn’t elegant in that way And they didn’t understand her artistry her politics And her pleading sensuality I was so upset Why didn’t they hire Me Why didn’t they cast Me I kept repeating—Attracting some attention He slipped his arm around my shoulder leaning in towards me he had a wonderful scent Bergamot I think And whispered in my ear to calm me But you didn’t audition he repeated Offering up a sobering kind of logic Provincetown, 2017
Hiding Out