Page 15 - The Geography of Women

The Geography of Women 1

Act 1

The Postman’s
Daughter’s Tale

Memory came back to me, it did, like a sort a vision, the
kind you dream when you’re barely half awake an so half
asleep someone could drop beans in your mouth an you’d
just swallow em. This vision, it was, a Jessarose Parch-
mouth when she’s just a young girl, workin one summer
the way she did for that bleachblond floozie Mizz Lula-
belle Harms who the spring before had got married to
Mister Henry Apple for reasons I’ll never under stand. Jes-
sarose in the vision looked, she did, like I wished I looked
when I was fifteen, almost sixteen, that summer she was
seventeen, goin on eighteen.
But, hey for hay, I didn’t look a tad like her. No such
thing. She was a beauty, she was. Not a tomboy like me.
She told me, Jessarose herself did, she was a woman with
color, but not very much if you ask me, no more n a cin-
namon girl, cuz Jessarose wasn’t anywhere near as dark as
me with a tan. An me as Irish as Paddy’s pig. Go figger!
How a girl can be a tenth black an the rest white an she
decides she’s got color! Not that one’s better n the other,
just different, the point bein: so why people go an decide
that the one little par ticular bit a what they are is what
they are altogether just kills me! Shoot! More n a tenth a

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