I am Artemis,

beginning existence

on the island of

Delos,

beneath the shadows

of a plain palm tree.

if you dare

to even glance

towards my

bare physique

whilst

cleansing my

body with

the purest

water,

I will release

my hounds against

you,

relishing in

how they

tear you apart.

I am the ruler of

the hunt,

of all the

mountains and forests.

do not

fuck with me.

Humility is not a key virtue of mine

I’m proud of my pride

I roam where i roam

While i live in a kingdom not a home

Always adorned in gold

I am king wherever i go

I need no chair for throne

My crown is clearly shone

In the jungles of the deep

In my grasslands of sleep

These are the treasures i keep

If you enter beware

The king of the jungle lives there

Don’t be fooled by my hide

Something more dangerous lies inside

If you do not recognize the beast

You risk being my next feast

I may look like a man

Sound like a man

But something more dwells beneath

There is where i keep my razor claws

Dagger teeth

There in the deep deep

The “Greatest-in the-Lion” waits for its release

My father said that if he had a daughter, then the first one would be named Patti. It’s an anagram of Piatt, his last name. When I’m teaching students about prepositions, their placement in sentences, and eliminating some from their writing, I’ll use my father’s last name in the following sentence: Where is the pie at? See, it’s stupid. So why do you say something like this: Where are your going to? Get rid of that extra preposition.

Let me start with this: Hi, my name is Patti. Please call me that.

Please do not call me Patricia. Only two people have ever said it in a loving manner. The very first time I heard it said with love was this past December. The cook and her husband returned from an extended stay in Italy, and I had invited them over to the house for dinner. I am one of those people who actually likes hearing about other people’s adventures and who actually enjoys looking at all of their photographs. After dinner that night, the cook’s husband was talking about the proprietor of a restaurant and his wife, Patricia. I asked him to repeat the sentence. I had never heard that pronunciation…

The second person who says the name with love is Angela, my hairdresser. I switched hairdressers at the end of December. I don’t know why. I just did. Angela is one of the very kind souls, who doesn’t blab at me when I need quiet. This past Tuesday, after I left work without finishing a major project, I changed and went for a long walk. Then I made a spur-of-the-moment call to the salon and asked about getting my bangs trimmed. As soon as Angela saw me, she knew. I did not need to get my hair trimmed. Angela poured a glass of merlot, and the she called one of the girls to massage my head, my neck, my hands, and my arms. Angela can tell by looking. I don’t need to talk around her. Only Angela is allowed to call me Patricia.

Patricia usually meant I was in trouble. Patricia Joan… I often heard it in middle school. I definitely heard Sister Patricia Morrison used it in high school. Funny thing, some of the times people chose to use that name, it wasn’t fair. When I was in sixth grade, I remember starting a petition to get a teacher fired. While that landed me in trouble, the truth is I was right. He landed in jail about a dozen years later. I won’t even start with high school. It’s not worth the effort.

My son called tonight. He’s a good kid. He didn’t need to call. He has a steady girl and plenty of friends. He could be doing something else on a Friday night. As I have written before, he is brilliant. Tonight he proved he is also wise and kind. He said, “Mom, there is no past. You only have now.”

Please call me Patti. Let’s start with that.

I am light. I am perseverance, desperation and pride. I have lived, and I have failed. Truly, I am nothing more than a speck in the wind, but I am strong. I am the willow that bends, and never breaks. Whose leaves stretch to encompass all, who sways with the wind.

But above all, I am Kay

Hmmm let me think

What I should tell you

About little ol' me

I live in a village that is surrounded by city. Somewhere between

Yuppieville and Hippster Town.

I have a cape cod built in 49. The bathrooms are original. Yes the toilets are green or yellow but no pink. Mid-century modern is what my home is. Yet I have chandeliers which grace my ceiling. A library with shelfs full of books. Two fireplaces and secret little nooks. I have a four season room with tropical plants to make winter more tolerable. But on the first floor there are things you won't find a tv or freezer or microwave of any kind. Instead I listen to radio or a record or two or converse with my family. How do you do? I have a walk-in closet that is absurdly huge but the clothes that fill it were purchased from the thrift store. And if you venture to the back of it you will find my art studio where I can express my mind. I have a treadmill and exercise room which believe it or not I actually use. That is all I am going to say about little ol' me. I guess you could call me an American Dream.