I am not sure who painted this, it was in a dressing room at Dumpster Values, a vintage store in Olympia, a place David Bowie might have enjoyed. 


Yesterday I was asked if I would
be writing about David Bowie,
the iconic (It could be his first name,
how often it is used, The Iconic David Bowie)
pop star that died a few days ago.
Iconic, a person or thing regarded as a representative
symbol of something.

Bowie, boyish, bisexual, buoyant, brilliant.

The thing is I was planning on hashing out
a conversation I had with a lovely young man
at Starbucks, when I lied and told him I was married.
The nice guy initially asked about my MacBook,
when we delved into my writing and children,
he asked if I was Christian.

I hated to disappoint with I am spiritual,
and couldn’t cop to being divorced
when he stated/asked
your husband must be so supportive.
I didn’t break it to him,
as he just got married five months ago,
that I had been once as fresh and in love,
that twenty something years later it ended
although I am beyond happy with another man,
even though I never thought such was possible.

I wish instead of lying I had sang
Ch ch ch changes, turn and face the strange
as Bowie sings, as my daughter and I did
a few weeks ago when picking up on
his impending passage,
she asked how I felt about his music.
The way I know if someone has worthwhile fame,
is my seventeen-year-old girl moved upon their death...
Maya Angelou, Robin Williams touched her as well.

I have been listening to lots of law of attraction audios.
Abraham, a channelled entity speaks of dying as croaking
in order to scoff at the seriousness we humans give it.
Major Tom is merely ready
for a new pair of stiletto star boots.

I left the coffee shop feeling ashamed,
worried the sweet newlywed might google me
and my online poetry would sully his world view.
The young shoulder-padded-blush-painted
striking-a-pose Bowie offered his life and art without apology,
his teeth seemed filed to points as proof.
He testified as such in his last photo shoot,
three days from death,
dashing in a charcoal gray suit,
his grin and lunge at the camera,
deliciously, ever daring.