She leaps into the alien heart
of the passerby, the drunk,
the girl who spouts Freudian talk
over Szechuan food.

She is part herself,
part everyone.
"Thank you for writing the story of my life,"
her mash notes read.
& "Can you tell me how to leave my husband?"
& "Can you tell me how to find a husband?"
& "Can you tell me how to write,
or how to feel,
or how to save my life?"

She knows nothing
but how to leap.
She has no answers for herself
or anyone.

One foot after another,
she flies through the air. . . .

She leaps over cracks
& breaks
her father's back.

© Erica Mann Jong

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