Deploy

I wasn’t      
Leaning        
On you        
In the mirror        
Anymore;        
But we took        
The music        
In        
As a single        
Heartbeat;        
Sticking        
It’s face out        
For the wind        
Creating        
Alienation        
With        
The planet’s        
Occupants        
Wishing        
For contact        
And        
My mind didn’t        
Have to think        
About how        
My body        
Was going        
To move;        
And for once        
I was waiting        
For you        
To deploy        
First.        
        
(Manipulating space/ It’s a wrap)        
         
Paying “it” back for the overtime through the years was rewarding but it left much to the imagination. I wasn’t stupid. I figured she had some performance somewhere and she was allowing me as her shadow piece. She had to be doing something with somebody. Once and a while she mentioned some boyfriend; Dexter something or another but neglect was never the issue.        
         
She invited me over once some years back (tell your Mother I’ll babysit for her sometime), as if off hour studio time wasn’t enough and my mother said No. She never said why and I wasn’t brave enough to ask; didn’t want to arouse suspicion, although people’s minds really didn’t tick quite like that back then. She gave me a response that my ears weren’t use to hearing, as an only child; brat.          
         
No part of me would have dared to show any attitude; she would’ve knocked me the fuck out, then called the police to tell them that she did it and then signed my name, Sgt. (bleep’s) daughter tripping and we cared about embarrassment. Oh yes we did. Some people you can’t embarrass but…        
         
Now she gave me a lot of latitude to do whatever latchkey generation with a key to let myself in the house, put on “Inspector Gadget,” make some dinner, call my home girls, do my homework etc. I was a good kid and she/they worked a lot but it just wasn’t in my nature to creep behind her back; not like that anyways.          
         
Now, what happened in the studio was all mine (my memories and nobody had the right to take that away; not as a child/preteen/teenager who’s to say there would be more?) aka none of her business and D had my permission, which wasn’t even a thing back then. Whatever. See ya next time, which usually meant next weekend; sometimes through the week after school though. She’d let me        
         
#my dance teacher        
         
I been grown a long time      
     
The larger graphic, as it is...for now      
https://imgur.com/a/7F9uXr6