i drink

too much italian rose so

you can go to the gym.

it’s how you cope. you tell me.

you are capable of drinking too much too.

thank god you are who you are adriana.

a giver. a caretaker. that you self-sacrifice

the way zio sacrifices a sheep or two after 50 years

of shepherding. zio you never complain.

i pay $180 for 45 minutes to complain.

i wish i was raised in your

mountain southern italian village

where drinking wine

preparing every meal with what you forage

wild italian greens in your front yard

oranges so orange i almost believe they are not real.

i want out. of this american culture.

where guilt and shame start my day.



i ordered two more bottles of french rose.

light pink and dry.

to celebrate 51.

unshowered. unshaven.

those things do not matter anymore

after this sense of undiscovery

of why i lack trust.

am always guarded.

why the ebb and flow of pain and loss


did i mention pain.

with 40 minutes left

i think i cannot

disappoint another soul.



i was in my 30’s when I started 18 years ago. i don’t like change. so i gutted out working, in broken systems, with some of the most beautiful souls in DC. it has been an honor and a true privilege working with DC residents who took a chance and trusted me. cried with me. let me witness their pain and try to do something to fix it. i am sad to say that system failures on all levels has made me depressed. the kind of depression that creeps back with every success. that when you love the work and the people so much but resistance is met along the way from the systems and the people in them. i hope that now, in my early 50’s, that a new generation will experience the joy and heartache i have felt over the last 18 years.



adriana suriano

adriana suriano

i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.