dear mom

do you think about me?  
do you think about the last time you held me?  
   
you carried me for nine months    
but how long did you really hold me?  
   
was it too hard to make space in life?  
you had too much going on to take care of a baby right?  
   
I understand  
especially if I was unplanned  
I don't see how you could let go though  
   
you don't owe me anything  
if you weren't boned I wouldn't be here you think  
   
Maybe i'm a rape baby  
forced upon some unfortunate lady    
and it was her religion that kept her from running to the clinic to get rid of it    
   
maybe it was catholic jersey that saved the poor baby from the crazy lady and talk of murder.  
birth control, you fucking animal  
the bravery to go through with unwed birth while all the nuns judge your soul  
   
mom your bad ass  
all I know is you had black hair you were too young and you had nobody else there  
your daddy was a catholic and he didn't know about me  
   
I'm a secret from my own grandaddy    
the one I never got to meet  
you don't know what that does to me  
psychologically    
   
Jersey boy through and through, haven't been back don't think I want to    
unless I knew there was a reason to    
like if I was coming home to finally meet you  
   
this all assumes you want me to    
getting rid of me could have been great for you  
your place in life might all come unscrewed if I suddenly turned up asking for you  
   
do you have other children?  
If I was in your position I don't think i'd tell a soul  
maybe you've forgotten, am I welcome in your home?  
   
you have a husband a family?  
maybe I came from adultery  
the last thing anybody would want is to hear from me  
   
alcoholic housewife    
that's a title I feel could be right  
waiting till late at night  
crawling out of your husbands bed and sneaking into the kitchen  
   
silently you uncork the bottle, through your lips you draw life in    
he's up for work early in the morning he leaves without a word  
you slink around, soak up the drops then discard the containers of your world    
wine is life, chemical carnival, escape on a plate, to the moon on a spoon  
   
maybe you're a hooker  
giving head for heroine    
i'd hope you're too smart for that  
no ruth, I can imagine you with a 1911 blowing fuckers teeth loose  
but in the big city hoes lose so lets assume that's something you didn't do    
   
maybe you're clean  
maybe your life changed when you got rid of me    
maybe you made something of yourself after me  
   
maybe I was your wake up call  
maybe you grew up and got control of it all    
you must hate nuns though  
I heard about all the shit they said to you  
catholics turning on you  
you must have been so lost  
unsure of what to do, nobody there for you    
16 or 19 no parental support no baby daddy  
   
I guess for me it's the best thing that could have happened  
abortion would probably be less fun for me    
my life's been crazy since I left you  
I can't remember it but part of me wishes they had to wrestle me from you  
   
Much love,  
the son you gave away  
 
p.s. I need money, it's not for booze and motorcycles (it absolutely is for booze and motorcycles)