WORDS • IDEAS: CINDY THOMPSON
Out of Place
Even in my own skin, I’m not at home. Consciously struggling to find a comfortable niche, only I know of the fruitless search. Awkward and tentative even around family who battered me into self-doubt, insecurity. “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me” ... but I draw the line at eating worms to die. Loneliness hangs about me like wispy spider webs whisking across my heart and mind. It’s a reminder of what lies ahead. When nobody’s with me, I’m alone. That’s my most comfortable self.
A coal miner's daughter descended from Italian immigrant grandparents, I love laughter and do poeting at a mile high in Colorado. Though educator/editor/writer describe my career, I aspired to become a baton twirler when I grew up. I succeeded by twirling as fast as I can to keep up with all that life embodies (occasionally getting head bonked by a misguided baton). Website: www.poetrysoup.com/me/CindyThompson PAGE 45 | THE PURPOSEFUL MAYONNAISE
