Sunday, February 28, 2010

A Hypochondriac in Heaven

The doctor told me
That I was going to die

He told me I had minutes
Maybe seconds
And that I would spend
These last few seconds of my life
Listening to what's wrong with me

That bump on my head
Is a tumor

Never mind that I hit my head
And THEN the bump appeared
That was just a coincidence

That bump is a big, fat tumor
That's practically bursting through my head

Remember when I forgot my keys the other day?

That WASN'T because of the tumor
That was because of the dementia
That's settling in

Just like I thought

And I DON'T need new glasses
I AM going blind in my right eye

It was confirmed

My nose is itchy
Because it's going to fall off

That rash on my leg?

Cancer

That discoloration on my arm?

Cancer

That weird growth
On the side of my foot?

Ebola

I have over eighty-seven diseases
Some of them tropical

The doctor said it doesn't matter
That I've never left the house

He says you can still catch malaria
Just from hearing about it
From the television

He told me that right before I die
My entire body will fall apart
Like a poorly constructed
Jenga tower

And how did I feel?

Relieved
So relieved

It was...

Heaven

Like An Old Movie

I like you on a Sunday afternoon
On the couch
In an old sweatshirt
Sipping coffee
Glasses halfway down your face
Pajama pants
And rain outside

I like you like an old movie

I like you late at night
On a weekend
When I'm too tired to go out
And you stretch out on me
And cast my body
In black and white light
Making me feel glad
That I didn't venture out
Into the night

I like you like an old movie

I like you on a sick day
When I'm gross and barely upright
Taking time to soothe me
With familiarity
And story line
And appropriate commercial breaks
So I can take time
To eat my soup

I like you
I like you like an old movie

I like you when I'm not invited somewhere
How you make me feel productive
When I've really done nothing

I like how you give me conversation topics
Amongst interesting people
When I do get invited
To uninteresting parties

I like how you're there when I need you
And how I forget I need you
Until I'm flipping through my life
And you pop up
Reminding me how good you are

I like you
Cause you're cinematic

You're like an old movie
I could watch over
And over
Again

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Sara's Man

Sara's man doesn't have

His life is a list
Of doesn't have

He doesn't have blue eyes
He doesn't have big arms
He doesn't have baby aspirations

He doesn't have a great job
He has a good job

He doesn't have a nice car
He has a working car

He doesn't have a brilliant mind
He's got a good heart

He didn't go to school, like Sara
He didn't keep his past clean, like Sara
He didn't ever think
He'd get a girl
Like Sara

And when they go out
And they don't go out often
Because Sara's man works the Friday shifts
At the gas station
On Vilento Ave

But when they go out
People challenge her man
With their blue eyes

And so Sara shuts her eyes
And then it's alright

She's there with her man
And they to be
By themselves

And she gets to be
What he has

Paulina's Palace of Porn

That over there
That is the Woo Woo machine

It makes Woo Woo
Very expensive
Verrrrryyyy expensive
And worth it
I tell you

Very worth it
Woo Woo, you go
Exciting stuff

Oh! New customer!

Welcome to Paulina's Palace of Porn
You are very excited to be here
You smell like crackerjacks
That means you're honest

Have a candy bar

They're shaped like booshnita
You like booshnita?

Good, otherwise you are the gay
And if you are the gay
I have to go get special box
From top shelf in back room
And that is pain for my ass

Plus all that stuff costs more
You are better off
Liking booshnita

You looking at Kinky Korner?
Paulina's Kinky Korner?

You are SICK
SICK!

Get out of my store

Everybody that comes here
Is big time pervert

I have Kinky Korner
So that I may know
Who the perverts are
And every time
They are drawn to it
Like a political prisoner
To an electric fence

Oh! New customer!

Girls are welcome
Do not be afraid
Embrace sexuality
Like progressive slut

All sluts welcome here
I do not judge you
For your promiscuity
And your disease-ridden booshnita

Do you like pinunu?
Or other filthy booshnita
Like yours?

Because if you like other booshnita
I have to go get special box in the back
And it is the same shelf
As the box for the boys
Who like other pinunu
Except it's more expensive
Because sluts who like booshnita are delicate flowers
That frat boys pay more to watch

Or maybe you just like Woo Woo?

We have small Woo Woo, big Woo Woo
And Come-to-Jesus Woo Woo

Named after its inventor
A minister's wife
From state of Georgia

CTJ Woo Woo has made women
Quit their jobs
And leave their husbands

It is veryyyyyyyy expensive
And veryyyyyyy worth it

Veryyyyyyyy expensive
Veryyyyyyyy worth it

Exciting stuff

Hmm?

Vidjo?

We don't have many vidjo's
None, no vidjo's
So dirty, the covers
I couldn't look at them

Instead I have audiotapes

Same as vidjo
No disgusting images
Much, much better

Verrrry expensive
Because I have to take all that time
Holding recorder
Up to television
While not looking at screen

No?

Not interested?

FINE!

Get out of Paulina's Palace of Porn!

I am sad I wasted a booshnita bar on you!

Oh! New customer!

What is your name
Exciting new customer, sir?

Stefan...?

Blugh

I'm going to have to get
Special box

Viernes Está Para Bailando

He has to work until 2
That's the shift
And it sucks

Noche malísima de todos modos

That's what he tells himself

He's working with Ray
His supervisor
Only twenty-three
And already running the place

Hector thinks he should skip college
Stick it out at the gas station
Maybe get Ray's job
When Ray moves to St. Louis with his girl
Like he keeps saying he's going to

That's why he takes these Friday night shifts
Nobody else wants to work them
And it makes him look good to Ray

Maybe he'll give him a recommendation
When he leaves

Viernes está para bailando

But when he's running the gas station
And he's pulling in big money
He can dance on Mondays

Rich people dance whenever

The hardest part about working the Friday
Is seeing people come in and out
Filling up their tanks
Going places

Karen from school came in
Looking really good
With her hair all done
And her nails done
And her black lipstick

'Why you wearing black lipstick? You're not Goth.'
'I like to be a little dark sometimes.'
'Extraño.'
'Whatever.'

But she laughed
This is how they talk in class
During Bio
Which might as well be Greek
For what Hector understands of it

'Vas al baile?'
'Nah, gotta work. You know.'
'Yeah, I know.'
'How's your sister?'
'Desordenado. Same old, right?'
'Right, yeah.'

Her friend Tara beeped the horn outside
And Karen looked irritated

He liked that she looked irritated

'Gimme a call later. We might go to Ricky's after.'
'Cool, yeah. I got it.'

Hector wasn't sure that made sense
But he couldn't concentrate
With Karen writing her number
On the bottom of his name tag
Using the sharpie she took off the counter

It didn't look too professional
But he couldn't stop her either
He liked the pull on his shirt
As she pulled at his name

'Hey Boss, you trying to score dates?'

Ray came in from the back
With his time sheets
And a bottle of Coke

'Nah, Ray.'
'Then why you got your number under your name?'
'The number's not mine.'
'Scoring dates on the clock?'
'Wasn't trying to.'
'Ohhhhh...I got you, Boss.'

We had a lull there
So Ray turned on the t.v.
And we watched scratchy black and white
Reruns of some show that ran forever
That nobody ever watched

'So did you know this girl?'
'Yeah.'
'Yeah...and?'
'We go to school together.'
'She stop by to bring you dinner?'
'She was going to a dance.'

Ray turned off the t.v.
And sat down

'A dance at school?'
'Yeah.'
'Yeah...and?'
'And what?'
'How come you didn't go, Boss?'
'Because you scheduled me to work, Boss.'
'I would have let you off.'
'Yeah, well, I need the money.'
'You need to go out and have fun. It's a Friday.'
'It's just a school dance.'
'Gotta dance while you can, Boss.'

A car pulled in
Ray stood up

'I got this one.'
'I don't mind.'
'Yeah, but you're leaving.'
'Huh?'
'I'll put you on Sunday. Time and a half.'
'Serious?'
'Yeah, get out of here.'

He got his coat
And grabbed a Coke from the freezer

'Thanks, Ray.'
'Go home and put some gel in your hair first. You look like a dirty mop.'
'Haha, thanks, Boss. Tell Sara I said hi.'
'She'll be asleep when I get home. I'll tell her in the morning.'
'Thanks again.'
'Yup.'

Hector runs out into the Friday
And jumps in his car

In his mind he's already at the dance
And his hands are on Karen's waist

Maybe later he can kiss some of the darkness
Off her lips

Feels good, you know?

Feels good to know you're going out
To dance

I'll Miss the Water Dish

It was a good life

Twelve years
Of serenity

Sunlight
Hitting living room carpets

Brisk walks
Past the house
With the cat in it

I regret not eating that cat
I regret it immensely

Paula's crying
Because I used to sit with her
While she did dishes

I always hoped
She'd let me lick the hamburger residue
Off the plates

But she never did

I forgive her for this

Dan just keeps petting me
He avoids the spot where the tumor is
And he lingers under my ear

Just a few months ago
This would have made my tail wag
And I would have gone into an ecstasy
Unimaginable to humans

But now I'm so tired
I just let my lips slip back
And close my eyes

I'll miss the water dish
And the tiled floor in the bathroom
Always a pleasure to slide across

I'll miss the times
When they let me go outside
Without a leash and collar

I'll miss these two people
My two owners
Dan and Paula
Who I've known my whole life

I heard once
That after awhile
A dog looks like its owners

I don't think I look like Paula or Dan
I don't think we're all that similar
Except for the kindness
I think I have their kindness now

I wish I had been a more poetic pet
But my breed is a simple one

It was all very simple, actually

Nothing but a dog's life

And a good one

A good one

Thursday, February 25, 2010

A Dinner Affair

Well, first we had sex
But you already knew that

I told you, remember
That Kate and I had sex

The thing is...

I said we had sex
And then each of us went home

It was amazing, mind-blowing sex
Followed by nothing

That was what I said

And we didn't get to talk too much about it
Because you'd just gotten home
From having sex with Eduardo
And we had to pick up Chrissy
At the baby-sitter's

But I didn't...

I didn't tell you

April, honey, we ate dinner

I don't know how it started

We were just sitting there
And she mentioned being hungry

And I should have just left
Right there and then

I should have gotten up and left

But...

I was kind of...

Hungry too

I mean you and I
Haven't eaten together
For awhile

You're always grabbing something to eat
On the way to work
And I'm always stuck here at home
Eating by myself

And I'm not--blaming you for that

It's just--

It was really nice to have someone
Want to eat with me again

So...

I told myself
We're just going to do appetizers

So we had some salad
And it was...

I don't know
It had just been so long
And the salad was so good
And before I knew it
We were getting steak

Really juicy steak

The best steak I've ever had
Yes, better than the steak you make me
I'm sorry, but it's true

This steak made me feel alive again
It made me feel like I haven't felt
Since I was in my twenties!

And I was enjoying it
And Kate was enjoying it
And we were--

God forgive me

We were feeding each other
Eating off each other's plates
Wiping gravy off each other's chins

It was so wrong

But it felt sooo amazing

Then finally, because why not, right?
Why not go there
We'd already--

We--

We had dessert

Please, Kate, don't walk out
I want to talk about this

Look, it was just different
It wasn't
It didn't
Necessarily
Mean
That
There
Was something
Emotional
There

I mean, clearly there was--

We had croutons in the salad
You know how I feel about croutons
But I couldn't say 'No'
I just couldn't stop myself

When it was over
I cried

She held me
And I cried
And I instantly regretted
Everything

The meal was fantastic
But I never meant to hurt you

Please, you have to forgive me

Look, we can fix this
We can go to a restaurant right now
Or I can make you dinner

Kate, please
Just let me make you dinner

I don't want to lose you over this

. . . . .

Fine

All right

Well...

Call me when you get back
From having sex with Nate
And maybe...

Maybe we can sit up
And...

I don't know

Have a snack or something

The Next Apartment

The next apartment is going to have more windows
It's going to look out onto a vast city
And allow me to view it
Without feeling overwhelmed

The next apartment will be in walking distance
Of a pizza parlor and a coffee shop
And NOT a Starbucks
A regular coffee shop
With ridiculous pillows
And a boy behind the cash register
Who has a lip ring
And a name
Like Otempo

The next apartment will have hardwood floors
And get so cold in the winter
That the guy I'm dating
Will hold me every second we're together
If not for the love
Then for the heat

Oh, I forgot to mention
The next apartment
Will come with a guy
A really amazing guy
Who might be Otempo
And might not be
And either way
Is the best boyfriend
I've ever had

The next apartment will have built-in bookshelves
And a breakfast nook
And an island in the kitchen
With one of those racks
You can hang pans over

I've always wanted to eat
Underneath my own cookware

The next apartment will have two more bathrooms
Than I actually need
And less closet space
So that I buy less clothing
That I know I'm never going to wear

It'll have better neighbors
An upstairs neighbor who plays piano
On Sunday afternoons
While I read my newspaper

And a downstairs neighbor
Who bakes fresh bread
And then brings some up to me
Once she's finished

The next apartment will be in the middle of everything
But it'll have thick walls
So that I can block out the outside...

No, never mind

Never mind that

I think I've blocked out the outside world enough
If I wanted to do that
I could just stay here

I could stay in this apartment
And I'm going to
I'm going to stay here
Because I'm not sure
I'm not sure yet
Where my next apartment is

But I know what it looks like

And when I'm ready for it
It'll be there

And I'll pack my stuff
And make this place
My old place

Rapunzel at the Salon

Okay, could we...

Before we do anything
Could we just
Talk, first?

Please?

Okay...

Breathe...

How much
Are you planning
To take off?

Yes, I realize my hair is five stories long

I'm aware that you're not even supposed to measure hair
The same way you measure buildings
But...you have to understand

I've had this hair--FOREVER

I've strummed lutes while playing this hair
I've been locked in a tower while wearing this hair
I've had men climb up this hair

. . . . .

Okay, I don't need you to judge me
So you can just stick that sassy look
In your scissor pot, alright?

How about we do...

Two inches?

That's good, right?

Well, how much were you thinking?

. . . . .

ARE YOU CRAZY?

Do you have any idea how long
And how many witches' brews
It took to grew this hair?

I'm so upset right now
I don't know if I can do this

I should eat something
I can feel my sugar dropping

Does anyone have a radish?
I would kill for a radish
Literally, I would give up an unborn child for one
Not that I'm pregnant
Because I'm not
I'm just sensitive

WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THOSE CLIPPERS?

PUT THEM DOWN!

PUT THEM DOWWWWWWWWN!

. . . . .

All right, so what we thinking?

Two inches and some highlights?

Nothing I can't maintain

It takes four weeks to wash this hair
So I really need something simple

You know, for the woman on the go

Not that I go anywhere

Mostly I just sit in the tower

But you never know
When you might have
Unexpected guests

So how about that?

Two inches
Highlights
Maybe some feathering?

Oh you know what
I'm being unfair
I'm sorry

Take three inches

It's time I stepped out of my comfort zone

Brenna's Lifetime Achievement Award

Oh, oh God...I just...

Thank you
Thank you sooo much

I had absolutely no idea
That I would be receiving this award
From the Brenna Fan Club

After all
I was the OBVIOUS choice

So I thought perhaps you
My loving fans
Would go for someone else
To surprise me

Which is why I sharpened my nails
And brought pepper spray with me today

Luckily, I won't be needing them

God, this is so unexpected

I almost didn't write this speech!

Let's see, who would I like to thank?

Well, let's do this in order of importance--

Nick Jonas
Justin B
Ryan Rotilani in my Civics class
God
My Mother
And all of you, the members of my fan club
The three greatest fans
Any girl could have

Although some may say
That sixteen years
Is far too young
To be receiving a Lifetime Achievement award

I would point out Joan of Arc
And how at a very early age
She managed
To conquer Sweden
And ride naked on a horse

How fierce was that?

I see some of you are confused
It's all right
I don't require my admirers
To be geniuses
Just loyal

And you are

You've helped me reach
Some of my greatest pinnacles

Getting vegan burgers put into the lunch rotation
Getting the school to offer an AP course on the Twilight books
Getting Molly Kuwaltz expelled from school using nothing but a mannequin and Youtube

It has been quite a life

But let's not stop now
Let's keep going

Let's remember that there are even higher peaks to climb
Greater mountains to scale
Epic undertakings to bring to fruition!

Let's remember that in four short months
There will be--

Prom

I accept this award
With the promise
Of even greater things to come

Thank you

Now can someone give me a ride home?

My brother was supposed to pick me up
But he's being a total tool
And I have a shift at Wendy's tonight

Ugh

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Next Time You Won't Win

Next time I'll get you
Next time I'll get you down with me
Until you're covered up to your chin
And the last thing you see
Is me smiling

Knowing I won
Knowing I got you

Next time the deal won't go right
The smoke won't settle
The pills will take
The chair won't break
They'll find you sitting on your couch
Waiting for somebody
Who was never gonna show up

Next time, buddy
You won't win

And I know you like tap-dancing on the edge
And I know you got bravado
And I know your mom loves you so much
She thinks she can keep me at bay
Just by shoving you full of her tears

But once you're dried out
You're mine

Do you understand that?

You
Are
Mine

I've already visited you in hospital beds
I got you to code
And it felt like sex
It tasted so good

Next time
We won't be
Decoding
The code

See I'm your fix
But what you don't is
You're my fix too

And I'm not through
Getting my high
Off you

So go ahead, go rehab
Go rehabilitate yourself

But you better rule out a next time
Because next time there's no next time
There's just you and me
In the dark
And me laughing
While you try and find the light

You got away this time, baby
But next time's
All mine

The People on the Ferris Wheel

There's a new guy
Hanging on the top
Who rocks his car
Back and forth

Not in a juvenile way
He just wants to shake up the horizon a little

See the ground
See the sky
See the ground
See the sky

The operator warns him
He's gonna fall out

But nobody falls out
So he just keeps rocking

When he goes back home
He's gotta carry his mom to bed
And figure out
How to pay the bills
Before something gets shut off

So here he plays the new guy
With the bad attitude
And the shaking fixation

Here he can shake up the horizon

. . . . .

There's a couple in the middle
Facing the Traitt/Artitt building
Tracing their hands
Over the lettering

The boy is a Traitt
The girl is an Artitt
The families split years ago
Over bad business

But the lettering remains
Because consumers enjoy
Familiarity

When they go home
They'll announce their engagement
And be disowned
For at least two weeks
Before their families get over it
And start planning a wedding

These two will reignite a financial empire
While sitting on a Ferris Wheel

. . . . .

At the bottom
There's a girl

She doesn't want to get off the wheel
Because when she's off the wheel
She'll have nowhere to go

Just a car to walk back to
An empty apartment
A night going unused

She'll pour herself some wine
And put on some music
And think of all the guys
She could have been on the Ferris Wheel with
Had she played her cards right
During her life up until now

Then she'll put on a dress
A better dress, a confident dress
And walk back down to that fairway
Just as the lights are going off
Behind her

And she'll meet the operator
And ask to go around again

'Sure, ma'am,' he says, 'But why?'

She smiles
And says--

'I think this time I'll get it right'

Monday, February 22, 2010

I Can Rock This Look

You can't rock this purple tie
With the green surprise
'Round the belly sash

You can't take the pink cake flavor
To a rave in S.L.A., okay?

You can't blow the smoke sky high
To the next best guy
In the line outside

You can't limo up and stretch
You're just a mess
You're a straight up mess

I can rock the blue shoe combo
Samba in my new black slacks
Attacking dance floors
Scoring more tours
Of mansions in the B.H.Z.C

So you don't wanna try to tie me
Feel the snap
Of the finish line

You can't rock it
Like I rock it
You're cooked, kid
'Nara

The look's all mine

I Thought You Were Gay

Oh, I'm sorry
I thought you were gay

I didn't realize
I was signing up
To deal with girl drama
And word play
And bitching

I didn't think I'd be dealing
With feelings
And nonsense
And bad boy fixations
And reparations every day

Gee, I'm so sorry
I thought you were gay

I didn't think you'd like a clinger
Or a dead ringer for a teen queen
With a mean streak

I didn't think you'd peak at twenty-six
Or get your kicks from bad pop music
And cock blocking your friends
I'm shocked, I must say

Gee, I'm so sorry
I thought you were gay

I thought you liked men
Not girls and not boys
And not cheap ploys
To get what you want

I thought you liked sex
And I thought the next to last thing
You'd ever do
Would be to make me jump through hoops
To get closer to you
Than I got
To the last girl I liked
Way back in eighth grade

Some people get upset
When they come to terms
But me, I thought
I had it made

And then you show up
And you want me to read your mind
And find endless delight
In your menial plights
Do nothing and feel good
Just because you're a part of my day

Didn't think that was you
'Cause I thought you were gay

What you are's what you are
But it's not who I am
Where I am
Where I wanna stay

You must have forgotten
The fact that I'm gay

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Coyote Stars

See that one?

It's bluegrass music
Caught up in light
Broken to pieces
And reset as a star

Don't you hear the twang?

Twang-dang-lang-a-tang

Bluegrass, right?

And that one--

It's gospel music
Sung by coyotes
Reaching up into skies
So far away
We can't even see them
We can just see light
From the celestial fireballs
Bouncing off them

They're not really stars
They're better than stars
They're coyote stars

They're stars you sit under
On a night in March
When it's freezing back East
And you're sitting in a desert
Wondering if you're as high as you think you are
Or just really, really, really in touch with yourself

Tang-tang-a-lang-dang
Woo hoo, Jesus

Why are we in our underwear?
And why am I not uncomfortable
About the fact
That we're in our underwear?

And why is the idea of my belly button
Suddenly so fascinating to me?

See that?

That's the La Gaya de Fuevo
It means 'He Who Loves the Waves'
In Ancient Aztec

No, that's total bullshit

But it sounds amazing, right?

I wish I could feel like this all the time

I'd never work
And I'd eat constantly
And I'd fuck anything with hair
But man, I'd be happy

And comfortable
And cool
And consistently amazed
By the world around me

I'd see the coyote stars

For coyote stars
Can only be seen
In our current condition

Tis their defense mechanism
Against insincere people

Peeeeeople

Peep-peep

Peepiola, La Gaya de Fuevo

See? Now I hear a mariachi band
And it's rising
And it's going
Into the galaxy

Where it will be forever changed
By the gasses in the universe
And mutate into something eternal

A star

A brand new coyote star

And it will be howled at
By young lovers in underwear
Under a blanket
In the desert

Waiting for their friends to sober up
So they can go back to the campsite
And start to feel shame again

But until then

We'll tan ourselves
Using the light
Of the coyote stars
And carry this feeling back with us
Hiding right beneath our skin

Valerie Westgate and the Giant Bunny

This is my giant bunny, Fritz
And I am Valerie Westgate
And you must be my new housekeeper

Please, have a seat

Don't sit on the chaise
That's Fritz's seat
And if he sees you in it
There's no telling what he'll do

Frightened?

Don't be
He's a pussycat

I mean, he's not an actual pussycat
He's a giant rabbit
That I've seen eat watermelons whole
But he has a decent temperament

...For people he likes...

Does he look like he likes you?

Hang on, I'll ask him

. . . . .

He says your eyes are made of cinnamon
And evil spirits
But he could learn to love you
If he was forced to

But I don't force my bunny
To love anyone

DON'T TOUCH THAT!

It's Fritz's First Place prize
For Top Bunny
At the Bunny Fair
I throw every year

He always wins
Because he kills the competition
Using arsenic laced carrots

Fritz can smell terror

That's how he found the cat
Hiding underneath our floor

That poor cat...

It was inhuman what Fritz did to it

I say inhuman
Because neither Fritz
Nor the cat
Was, in fact, human

Would you like some lemonade?

Hahaha I'm kidding

I don't have lemonade
I don't believe in it
What is it after all?
But squeezed citrus?

Fritz likes mango juice

Are you prepared to make him mango juice?
That'll be part of your responsibilities
As housekeeper

Fritz has his own Facebook page
And he has more fans
Than Cameron Diaz

Isn't that something?

DON'T LOOK AT HIM!

He'll steal your soul
I've seen him do it

Don't EVER look at him!

. . . . .

So...

You're hired

When can you start?

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Julie, Don't Be Afraid

Julie, don't be afraid
Because the darkness goes both ways
Though you cannot see
You can't be seen either

Learn how to use the darkness
Stay very still
And listen
And you'll hear the sounds
Of those who are afraid
Bumping around
Bumping into things
And shortly thereafter
Disappearing

But not you, Julie

You will stay very still
And you will not be afraid
And when the others have bumped
And disappeared
The things that they bumped into will say--

'Well, I suppose we got them all'

And they'll turn
And walk away

This Must Be London Sunshine

This must be London sunshine
I don't recognize
It's light

Sounds like it went down softly
Towards a barrel
With a fight

This must be Christian voo doo
Or a man, unplanned
Alone

Seems like it broke the sacred vase
The snapshot
And the telephone

This must be terra nueva
Pterodactyls
Round the bend

Says somethin's happenin' somewhere
With your stranger
With my friend

It looked like London sunshine
That was why I felt this pain
Maybe I called it sunshine
When I knew that it was rain

Friday, February 19, 2010

Colson Cookies

I've gathered you all here
My family
My loving family
Who have helped to make
Colson Cookies what it is
For over sixty years
To tell you--

That you're fired

Believe me
This was not an easy decision

It's one thing to fire your grandmother
But to fire her when her photo
Is on every package of cookies
Your company is distributing--

That's a whole different kind of difficult

Luckily, Grandma, our studies show
That I can replace you
With a CGI Grandma
And nobody will care

We may even make her blue
Like those smurfs from that movie Avatar
People just LOVE that movie

Dad, we'll no longer be needing you for the commercials
Because we're going to get actual actors
Who can, you know, remember their lines

'Colson Cookies--American Cookies for the American People'

How hard is that?

It took you three days to film the last commercial
And then we started getting mail from customers
Asking if you were suffering from dementia

Is that the image that we need representing this company?

And Mom...God this is tricky

You can't be in the print ads anymore
Because...

Well, Mom
I think we both know
That you've been...

Shall we say...

Sampling a little too much product lately

Oh come on, Mom
Our cookies aren't selling in Europe
Do you know why?

Because Europeans won't eat anything
That makes them pudgy
And you make it look
Like our cookies make people pudgy!

OF COURSE THEY MAKE PEOPLE PUDGY
THEY'RE COOKIES!

WE DIP THEM IN CHICKEN LARD
CASHEWS AND CHOCOLATE SAUCE

But we don't want the CUSTOMERS
Knowing that!

And besides, as long as you keep it
To one package a day
You're probably not going to balloon up so badly
That we have to take out a centerfold
In Women's Wear Daily
Just so we can fit all of you
In one advertisement!

Look, all of you
This isn't easy

I love you
You're my family

But this is my business
This is my money
And this is your money
And you all are jeopardizing
This family's money

So I had to make a hard decision
But it's one that I have made
And I'm sticking by it

You're all fired
And you'll be expected to clean out your desks
By the end of the day
Before security removes you from the building

So...

Next order of business

Who's doing Thanksgiving this year?

Grieving Money

Dad, we are so happy
To have you back

So, so, so, so happy

After the plane crash
When they pronounced you dead
It felt like our entire family
Was going to be torn apart

...Then we got the insurance money...

And Dad, it was...

Well, I mean you know
You had a REALLY good plan

Plus the money from the airlines
The...

Well, some may use the term
'Hush' money

We called it 'Grieving Money'

And let me tell you
We had a great time
Spending that grieving money

We grieved all over the place

Then after a year
We get a phone call
Telling us
That you've been found
On a deserted island
In the North Pacific

Imagine our surprise

Of course, we were thrilled
We had our father back
Yay!

But the thing is--

The insurance company wanted the money back
And, so did the airlines

Plus we wouldn't be getting the monthly checks
They'd been sending us
To shut us--

I mean, to make sure
We could mourn in dignity
And in really nice clothing
Black clothing, of course

And the thing is, Dad
We learned to move on with our lives
And we got used to not having you around...

And we also got REALLY fond
Of that money

So we were wondering...

Is there any chance you could...

Perhaps...

Fake your own death?

Nothing too elaborate
Another plane crash
Or...a failed parachute

I don't know how you'd fake that
But I'm sure you'd figure out a way

We still love having you back
But we don't need you back ALL THE TIME

But the money, Dad
That would be really hard to part with

After all
In a lot of ways
We're still grieving

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Spinning the Season

-- I'm fascinated by people in marketing. The idea that it's someone's job to bullshit to people who know they're being bullshitted is just astounding to me. Nowhere does it seem to be more prevalent than in the theater. So I thought I'd take one of those spin-masters and have them tell the truth for once. Let's see what happens. --

"Spinning the Season"

MESSAGE FROM SUBSCRIBERGUY85

What made you decide to open your season with 'The Sound of Music?'

RESPONSE FROM NADIA TICKER, MARKETING

The Seattle Acting Group felt that there was no better show to open our sixty-third season with than a classic like 'The Sound of Music.'

Oh, who am I kidding?

We're doing 'The Sound of Music' because even though it's a sappy, overdone milquetoast musical--old people like it, and old people spend money.

Plus, if we double cast all the kids, their stage parents will spend thousands on tickets for everybody from their dentists to their rabbis.

So everybody wins--except the people in our audience who actually enjoy art, but hey, since when have we ever been concerned about them?

MESSAGE FROM THEATREGAL22

I loved Theresa Diegle in 'Faulty Wiring.' Will she be returning for any other shows this season?

RESPONSE FROM NADIA

Unfortunately, she will not be returning, mostly because our resident actresses are a group of back-stabbing shrews who protect their right to turn into 50% performances by making sure nobody good ever gets inside the theater.

Poor Theresa may have made it past the front door, but believe me, as soon as 'Faulty Wiring' closed, they practically drove her out with torches.

MESSAGE FROM ACTAMAN191

I'm so thrilled to see that you're doing Oedipus Rex! What made you decide to take on this classic piece of theater?

RESPONSE FROM NADIA

The keyword here would be: Classic. Classic = Taught in Schools = School Field Trips = Group Sales = Selling Our Souls to Sixth Graders at 10am to Make an Extra Buck

MESSAGE FROM 2MASKS2DIFFERENT

Bernard Buckley as Brick in 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' is an interesting bit of casting. Could you explain how Bernard ended up with the role?

RESPONSE FROM NADIA

1) Hard Work
2) Talent
3) F**king the Artistic Director and Bitching Until He Gets Everything He Wants Including Roles He Has No Business Playing

One of those is accurate.

You figure out which.

MESSAGE FROM STAGETIME979

'Lend Me a Tenor' seems to be a rather light offering from a serious theater such as yours. I know the Artistic Director has said that you'll be examining the play in a new light. Could you elaborate on that?

RESPONSE FROM NADIA

Yes, I'll elaborate. The new light we'll be examining the play through will be the light reflecting off the buckets of shiny green money we plan on making on this horrible show.

Nowadays no theater with more than forty seats in it can afford to do anything that doesn't involve tap dancing, slapstick comedy, or both--so don't expect to be seeing any serious offerings from us that haven't been turned into Meryl Streep movies.

MESSAGE FROM SPRINGERSPANMAN

Your last show is a new play by a new author that seems to discuss relevant political issues. Good for you for championing edgy and provocative work.

RESPONSE FROM NADIA

We have no f**king clue how that got on our season. Even the Artistic Director hasn't read it. I hear that halfway through the show a giant mushroom is lowered onto the stage and dwarves hop out of it.

Try designing a poster for that, Springer.

What the hell does that name mean anyway?

MESSAGE FROM DIONYSUS

Do you like your job?

RESPONSE FROM NADIA

No Comment.

Love This Body

Love this body
Love all the lines
All down your sides
And your marks
And your scars
And your sensitive areas

Love the tricks
That it plays
When it stays
In the light

Let it rock back and forth
Around my fireplace nights

Look at it while I do
And see if you can see
The breaks in the places
Where my stare's
Made tracks
Beyond the shallow layers

Love these legs and these arms
And the way your skin tone changes
As my hand makes shadows
Over you
Like a healer

Love this body
And if you can't
Give me a chance
Cause I can

I can

I can love the parts you can't
And love the parts
You forgot to take care of

I can match your hurt
To my healing
And your cuts
To my compliments

I can make you better again
And when I'm done
You won't be new
You'll just be you

And you'll love it
You really will

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Unpleasant Topics of Conversation

We can talk about...

Well, let's see

We can talk about nature
Isn't nature nice
Isn't the world intriguing
With how...worldly
It is?

Well, let's not talk about politics
No reason to get political
Politics don't get any less political
By talking about them
Do they?

Are they a they?
Would you say they're a they?
Hmph, who knows?

They're so unpleasant
Such an unpleasant topic
I should say

People yell
And get so upset
Over it

No need to get upset while talking
Talking should be calm and leisurely
Like a nice little stroll
Using your tongue

We also avoid talking about religion

No way to talk about that
Without a referee present

Hahaha...

Just a little joke

Don't get mad
I wasn't joking ABOUT religion
Just about people TALKING about religion

Oh, and Nicholas loves the arts
But it's the same thing
People involved with the arts
Just LOVE to get upset
About the arts

Every little thing upsets them

A show is cancelled
A show is postponed
A show massacres the integrity and nobility of the theatrical profession
And suddenly it's the end of the world

I mean, why get upset about these things?

Why get upset about anything?

Passionate people are always so difficult to deal with
Because they always have to find SOMETHING
To be passionate about

And I find that most things
That they find
Worth being passionate about
Are either things you can't change
Or things that don't matter

So why bother?

That's my motto

Why bother?

Do What Southern Women Do

When someone makes you mad
Or makes you feel...unpleasant

I notice you have this tendency
This unfortunate tendency

To shout and holler
And make a mess
Even more of a mess

Honey, you need to do
What Southern women do

See, we don't put our problems out there
For the world to see

We keep our problems in the cupboards
And the pantries and we throw parties
And sip wine instead of whining
About our problems

Our problems get mixed in
With the lemonade

And we just sit and toss it off
Like yesterday's change

We don't get mad about it, honey

Six months from now
Everything that's bothering you
Is gonna be party anecdotes

So you gotta just smile
And nod
And promise to yourself
That whomever is bothering you now
Will be noticeably absent
On the guest list
Of your next extravagant party

That's how we do it
And that's something you need to learn

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Tony Hooper's Birthday Party

First of all, Fat Pant isn't invited
Because he'd eat all the muffins

I don't get cake
Because it's passe
Which is French for
Stupid people like it

Instead I get muffins
Shaped like different characters
From 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks'

I get the Angela Lansbury muffin
Because it's my birthday

That's my first of all

Second of all, I can't invite Lucinda
Because the last time I invited her to my party
I found her in the soup cupboard
Trying to kiss a can of chicken noodle

My Mom says she's 'special'
Which is the same thing my Mom says
About our neighbor
Who married her parakeet
And wears a bra on her head

She's my favorite neighbor

Sometimes she makes me cookies
That smell like Vaseline

But it's the thought that counts

That's my second of all

G--Nicole was going to come to my party
But now she can't
Because she'd want to bring
Her stupid new boyfriend

She's into older men now
He's in the fifth grade
And Nicole calls him
Her 'silver fox'

That's what you call boys
Who eat rodents
And roll in their own poop

So now my birthday party is going to be me
And my best friend, Franklin
Who has to let me play with his eye patch
Because it's my birthday

(He got the eye patch at Fat Pants' party
After a particularly competitive game
Of Pin-the-Tail-on-Joe Jonas)

And my Mom will be there
And Mrs. Brugel is going to perform
Songs from her old cabaret act
'Torch Songs in a Velvet Key'

That means...

I don't know what that means
But I can't tell her not to do it
Because she's in charge
Of who wins the Talent Show

Oh! I'll have chicken wings too
Which will be super awesome

So you should come
Unless you're stupid

Thanks!

Age is Just a Number That Can Get You Arrested

-- When I was writing the CBQ dealing with Liam and Eli last year, I wrote this little rant for Hank that I never ended up using. I tailored it a little bit, and here it is. --

"Age is Just a Number That Can Get You Arrested"

Eli!

Eli, you need to stay AWAY from that boy
That boy is too young for you

Do you want to know
How to tell
When someone's too young for you?

When you're finishing up college
And he's looking for a tux
For senior prom

No, you are NOT going to that senior prom
Seniors belong at senior prom
Seniors in HIGH SCHOOL

And don't think because you're two boys
It's any different

If that boy were a girl
You'd be Eli the Creepy Guy
Who likes little girls

Don't say he's mature for his age
Nobody in high school
Is ever mature for their age

It's just that you're IMMATURE for your age
That's what's going on there

What do you have in common?

You both hate studying for AP Exams
And you both have the same curfew?

Exactly

You see my point

You're right
Age isn't anything but a number
A number that can get you arrested
It's the number you hold up
In your mugshot

Look

Nobody else wants to tell you
That you're riding the pedophile train
So I'm going to have to do it

You are on the underage express
And you need to GET OFF THAT TRAIN

Next stop even
Hop on off

You're attracted to his innocence?

Gee, where have I heard that before?

I think I saw it painted
On the outside of a white van
Hanging near a playground

You see my point?
Do you see it?

Good

...Okay, fine

You can drive him to the mall
To meet his friends

But that's it

There's Always a Mirror

I watched you eat

I watched you eat
And kept track
And kept an eye on you
And made sure
That you ate

And they told me
That you were hiding food
In your socks
In your folded up clothes
Underneath your mattress

I said this was something
I could handle
That I could beat this

And now I feel like
You must have thought
I was trying to beat you

That the war was with you
And not with the disease

In some ways
It feels like a possession
Like this demon got inside you
And I beat the girl
But not the demon
The demon just moved on
To some other parent's kid

I took out all the mirrors
I remember that
Taking them down

I felt like...

If I couldn't convince you
That you weren't overweight
Then instead I was just going to
Remove all the mirrors

I couldn't fix the problem
Because it wasn't physical
I'm not good with internal stuff
That's your mother's job

She's the shrink
I builds houses
You knew that
You knew I wouldn't know what to do

So I took down the mirrors
And I forced you to eat
And I thought that was it
I thought I took care of it

But there's always a mirror

I never noticed that before...

But there is
There's always a mirror

Every time we'd go somewhere with you
I'd see one

It was like a constant reminder
That this was something
I couldn't control

I used to want to carry
A hammer around with me
And smash the damn things
Every time we walked past one

It was like keeping you away from some boy
No, it was like...

Keeping you away from yourself
That's what it felt like I was trying to do

. . . . .

You can't imagine
How disgusted at myself I was
When they called me

I was at work
I was always at work
And your Mom called
And I was surprised

Why was I surprised?

Why, when nobody else was?

You were so small
You should have seen yourself
So small, so tiny
This little girl

And I wanted to hold you
And I couldn't hold you
Your uncle and your grandpa held me back
And I remember going by this mirror
In your bedroom
On the back of your door

When did you put that up?

Where did that come from?

I remember yelling
Asking
Where that mirror came from

It was like it was laughing at me
I swear I heard somebody
Laughing at me

. . . . .

Now I walk by mirrors
And I see nothing

It's like I'm a vampire

My vengeance for you
Is the removal of my own reflection

I don't see myself at all
I don't want to

I pretend that I'm walking by a picture
A picture with nothing in it
But an absence

Because that's close
That's the closest thing to me
Anybody's going to get

Monday, February 15, 2010

If He Doesn't Work Designer

If he doesn't work designer
You do not date him
You do NOT date him
Never, are you kidding?
Are you kidding me?

No, no, no, no, no
No, no, no, no, no
No, no, no, no, no

Where does he work?

The bookstore?

The...BOOK...store?

Can you explain that to me?

Um, yeah
I'm aware
That they sell
BOOKS
There

I'm not retarded
Okay?

Stephen, do we not work at the mall?
Are there not entire floors of designer stores
At which you could peruse
And pick up
A perfectly cool guy
Who can expand both your horizons
And your discount options?

Were you just hankering for a discount
On the complete works of Steinway?

I'm so confused
I'm so perped, you know?

Of course you don't know

Everybody knows this, Stephen
EVERYbody knows
You date designer

You STRICTLY date designer

And weren't you totally in love
With Bixby?

Was I just imagining that?

Substance
You want substance?

What does that even mean?

Ugh
This should have been a ten-second conversation
And it's spiraled into
An epic nowhere nosh fest

I'm done with it

If he doesn't work designer
And you're dating him
Then you can chill at his BOOKSTORE
Drink espresso
Read
Whatever

It's done

A Pool That I'm Swimming In

Wherever he is
There's a pool
That I'm swimming in

Blueberry strawberries
Scarves wrapped around us

A button-nosed teddy bear
And a buttoned up coat

Rio de janeiro
Or these hallowed halls
For giving in

A bad baby carriage
And the Eiffel Tower

East Indian parade
Down a downward spiral

And all the while
He's here

And he's a pool
That I'm swimming in

What He Did on Valentine's Day

He went out and ate a hamburger
With the ketchup fallin' out
And the bun fallin' off
And a mess everywhere

And he thought
Nobody's watching me eat
So I'm going to eat what I want
How I want
And I'm going to enjoy it

He looked over at the poor girl
Eating a salad
And her boyfriend
Picking at chicken
And he knew they wanted his hamburger
And he didn't envy them

Then he went to a movie
One of those dumb ones
That you go see
Just to laugh at

And while he was in line
He heard a couple arguing
Because the guy wanted to see an indie
And the girl wanted to see a mindless action flick
And he was glad he didn't have to confer with anyone
Regarding how to spend his ten fifty

He watched them settle
On a three hour documentary
About General Noriega
And he didn't envy them

He went home and took a ridiculous shower
Until the hot water ran out
Sent out a few flirty texts
To a few different people
Made a few plans
For later in the week
And got ready for bed

And he thought of all the couples out there
Examining their time together on Valentine's Day
Wondering if they were really happy
If a guaranteed date one day a year
Is really worth the rest of time
When there's fighting and silence
And the ominous sense
Of life passing by
And of not being lived

And he didn't envy them
Not one bit
Not at all

And tomorrow
Would not
Be Valentine's Day

So tomorrow
Would be his

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I Like Your Grammar

You know what I like
About you?

I like your grammar

I like that you never use exclamation points
I like that you never exclaim
That everything is done
With a simple period

I like that you know where to put question marks
When quoting someone
You always tuck your question marks
Neatly into the quotations
Instead of tacking them onto the outside
Making the entire statement a question

I like that you're always there
When they're not there
And that their thoughts on you
Never seem to matter much
You just keep being there

I like that you have the guts
To use a semi-colon
Instead of a flimsy comma

I like that you don't believe
In compound sentences

I like that your sentences
Have a pleasing aesthetic to them

Your paragraphs are like works of art

And when you use an interjection
It riles me up inside

I like your prepositions
And your conjunctions
And all your functions

I like it all

Now I'm just waiting
For you to sit down
And write me something

Using all that grammar
On me

And I Got All His Songs

You've heard of my father

He died last year
After an illustrious career
In the music industry

But this isn't about my father

This is about
What's left of my father

Namely, his songs

When he died
There was a scramble
For his assets

My father was married four times
And had children with each of his wives

Then there are the trysts
That resulted
In even more offspring

While he was alive
His lawyers made sure an allowance was given
To each of the children

Some of the off-flings
As my sister Melissa calls them
Had worked out one-time cash settlements
But us legitimate kids
We got weekly pay

Except for me
I never took the pay
Not because I didn't need it
But because it would have felt
Like I owe my Dad something
And I really didn't want to owe him anything

For most of my childhood
He was either absent or drunk
And whatever conversations we had
Were very similar
To the types of talks
You would have with someone
Lacking a short-term memory

I was constantly reminding my father

Reminding him that I was done with school
Reminding him that I was no longer married
Reminding him that my birthday was two months ago

These reminders made him sad
Therefore seeing me
Made him sad

So most of the time
He just...

That was why it was strange
That out of everyone
I was the one
Who got the songs

Cody, from his first marriage
Was the eldest of all the children
Official or unofficial

By birthright, the songs
Should have been his

Then there's Patrick
From marriage three
Who's become a pretty big deal
In the music world
These past few years

I think most people
Were expecting him to get the songs

There's also Melissa
She was my pick to get them
She took care of Dad this past year
Turning away all offers of help
And making sure he got the best care
His money could buy

But when he died
And all the award shows
Had done their tributes
The news broke

I was the one
Who would be receiving
All his songs

At first I wanted to give them away
But songs aren't like antiques
You can't just give them to a museum

I realized I could give the rights
To the songs away
But then I'd risk turning on the television
And hearing one of my father's songs
Played over a commercial
For a feminine hygiene product

The problem with the whole situation
Was that even though I didn't always like my father
I always did love his music

The rest of the kids
Got a more tangible inheritance

Money, houses, cars, more money

But I was still the black sheep
Because I had something better than money
I had the ability to GENERATE money

Everyone felt that the songs
Should have been divided up
Like everything else

With the number of songs
My father wrote and licensed
Each of us could have gotten
Approximately six songs apiece

All I could imagine in my head
Was a never ending series of legal battles
Determining who would get which song

Considering my father wrote an album
Called 'Dirty in the Alleyway'
During his more overt sexual period
That could have made
For some interesting litigation

I would have loved to have heard
My born-again half brother Josiah
And my soccer mom half sister Kerri
Fighting over the rights
To 'Twist It Up Inside Me, Baby'

. . . . .

My father did teach me one thing

He taught me how to play guitar

Since we were horrible at talking
Whenever I would visit him in New York
We would sit up on his rooftop
And he would teach me guitar

It didn't require a lot of talking
And it passed the time

We would smoke up there too
Great parenting, I'm aware
And sometimes he would write a song
With me sitting right there
Witnessing musical history

Maybe that's why I got his songs
Maybe he felt like I was entitled to them
Since I had been there for their birth

. . . . .

I decided I wasn't going to do anything
About having the music

I was just going to keep the songs
And if anyone else wanted them
For bad commercials or what-have-you
I'd take it on a case-by-case basis

Whatever I felt I couldn't decipher
I'd leave to the estate lawyers

Melissa said I was doing the right thing
But she also asked
If I'd give her the rights to the 'Bad Radical' LP
So she could print the lyrics
On a collection of t-shirts

I don't blame her

My father didn't give any of us
Much in life

Maybe that's why
So many people don't mind taking what they can from him
Now that he's dead

. . . . .

I went back to New York
Back to my apartment
Back to my cat
And my ex-wife
Who stopped by
To extend her condolences
And let me she was getting remarried

I forgot how much I missed
Her sense of timing

When she left
I went up on the roof
With my guitar
Same one I've had
Since I was fifteen

I played a few of my Dad's songs
I can't play very well
But I got the basic idea going

About two roofs over
I saw two kids
Really, kids
Like eighteen, nineteen
Dancing with each other

The girl was in a bright yellow sun dress
And the guy was in jeans
And a baby blue t-shirt

It took me a second
To realize they were dancing
To the music I was playing

I picked up the tempo a little
To make it more interesting for them

The guy got a little too fancy
With his hip movements
And the girl laughed at him
So he grabbed her around the waist
And spun her around
Finally putting her down
And giving her one of those kisses
You give when you're still not really sure how to kiss

I miss kissing like that

You know I forgot
How much people
Like my Dad's music

I forgot that he could make
A newlywed couple
A third of his age
Dance on a rooftop
And really enjoy themselves

Maybe he gave me the music
Because he knew
I wouldn't try to lay any claim to it

Dad was never really belonged to anybody
And neither did his songs

And in a way
That was sort of the beautiful thing
About both

Maybe he knew
I'd just leave his songs out there
For anybody to come along
And dance to

Friday, February 12, 2010

My Gardener

This is my new husband
I can't pronounce his name
But he can mow a lawn
In nice straight lines

What more do I need?

Allow me to introduce myself
I'm Miriam Slater

I hadn't planned on getting married...again

But a good gardener is hard to find
And Unpronounceable, or Hedges, as I call him
Is simply the best

The things that boy can do with gardening shears
A hydrangea bush and a day hot enough to give you heatstroke
Is astonishing

And I say 'boy' because he is a boy

In Guadacongo, or wherever he's from
They train them early
In the art of horticulture

Although I have to admit
I thought Hedges was at least twenty
When we got married

I mean, look at his pores
Who could have pores like that
Before their second decade?

Little did I know
That the Kenyaguas grow much quicker
Than North American poeople

So there I was
Married to a twelve-year-old

Oh, it was fine, of course
It's not like I ever planned on consummating the marriage
But I did have to throw in a little bit more money
To get the green card

Oh how funny
My gardener needed a green card!

Hahahahaha...

You had to be there

Of course, now that we're married
Hedges acts more like a son
And by acts like a son
I mean that he won't mow the lawn
And he keeps telling me my wardrobe is tacky

Apparently my gay pool boy
Has gotten a hold of him

Hedges did agree to do my rose garden
If I bought his betrothed over
From Madaespanol
So that they could be together

I said I would
Because of the rose garden
But also because
It'll be nice to have kids in the house again

Of course my child never married each other
But still, the energy is the same

Now I have a husband
And a son
And a gardener
And a gay pool boy
And soon a daughter
Who hopefully will know
How to get red wine stains
Out of beige carpeting

My own little family

God, isn't it glorious

All the things
That money can buy?

Look at that Ceiling

Look at that ceiling
With the swans painted on it
And the colors crossed over
Into new kinds of purple
And new sorts of red
And blue sorts of orange
Here, come lay with me
And see the view
I get from bed

Tickle my toes with your toes
And move your pointing fingers
Past my wandering gazes
And this lazy sort of Sunday
Will become a holiday of sorts

We'll be ceiling-staring cohorts
With all sorts of depth perception
We may even see a reflection
Looking back at us
From the top of the room

There's a winter scene
Involving a frozen lake
And fresh-baked muffins
Stuffed with butter

There's a vase of flowers
With an apple sitting silently
Waiting its turn
For you to examine it

There's a man in a cathedral
And a pair of ballet shoes

There's a new sort of look
To this slightly cracked ceiling
And you're feeling that maybe
You've never looked at it
Like you are right now

But that's okay

There's something pristine about it
It's got a Sistine sort of look to it
That I really enjoy

Just sit here for a day with me
And we can look
And we can look
And we just look at each other

Looking at the ceiling

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Giving Greta Money

I'm not giving Greta, money
Ma, I'm not giving her money

I don't care
I'm not doing it

She doesn't need money
She needs electrodes placed on her head
That's what she needs

I'm not doing it
I'm NOT doing it

Because when I give her money
She gives it to that lousy boyfriend of hers
The one who smells like onion bagels

Because she gives it homeless guys
And then they follow her around
And then she dates them
And then they leave her for other women
And then she falls into deep depression
Because homeless guys are breaking up with her

Because every time I give her money
She cries
I don't even care about the money anymore
I just can't stand seeing her cry
It's embarrassing

And she buys such tacky stuff with it

That lamp in her apartment
The one shaped like a kidney
That gives off purple light
I call it the eggplant lamp

Every time I see it
I think--

Dear God
Please tell me
That lamp
Was not purchased
With my money

I would rather she purchase
Prescription drugs on the Internet
Than crap like that
Using my money

No wonder the only men who want to date her
Smell like the ground underneath the tilt-a-whirl
At the traveling carnival

Remember when that carnie asked her out on a date

That's all we heard about for months

Her getting asked out by a carnie

Like it was Prince Charles
Asking her to ascend the throne with him

She was sooo pleased

And of course
Once she starts talking to him
He tells he needs twenty bucks
Because hasn't eaten
Because apparently carnivals
Aren't the lucrative business
They once were

And where did that twenty bucks come from?

Me
Me
Me

Well, no more, Ma
She's not getting anymore money
From me

I don't care
Not a cent

She wants to make money
She can go work at the Clam Shack
Like a respectable human being
That's what I do every summer
And you don't see me begging for money

Remember when I worked at Barb's Boutique?
She made me gather up all the hair every day
And make it into animals
So we could display it
In the store window

Did you ever try to make a giraffe
Out of human hair?

You try it
Then you'll know
What it is to EARN your salary

Have you ever spent an entire summer
Baby-sitting the Mason triplets
Getting so bored
You'd mix them up on purpose
Then tell them that taking on new identities
Is a way of life?

That's what working is

So I'm not giving Greta
Anymore money

Not a dime

I said I'd pay to have her nose done
But after that
I'm cutting her off

Severed
Just like those wild nostrils of hers will be
Once Dr. Hershenberg's done with her

Once that honker's chopped down to size
She's on her own

Because she needs to learn
A little something
About self-respect

Like Real People

Mom works two jobs
So we can feel real
Like real people
Who live in a real place
Who don't worry
About money

She works at the diner
During the day
So she can pay
To send us to a school

It's not a good school
But it's a school
You pay to go to
And that makes us feel
Like our education
Is worth something

She works at the hotel
Every night until two
So Sarah can wear designer shoes
So I can have the car I want
So we can eat organic food
And feel like real people

Cause real people
Don't live on bad streets
Or sleep on old sheets
Or get beat up
On their way home
From school

Mom keeps us cool
With her multiple earnings
And we're learning
To develop the superiority we need
To believe we're better than
The children of a mother
Whose other job
Keeps her kids whole

And even as the pressure
Starts to take its toll on Mom
We keep feeling real
And believing we're real
And feeling like
We're not her kids at all

But the kids of someone better
Who'd never have to lower herself
The way our mother does

We live imaginary lives
That feel real

And Mom works
To keep up our illusions

And the aligned stars
And designer clothes
Keep our noses high
And our confusion minimal

The tricky thing about a subliminal message
Is that you don't realize it's subliminal

We hear that we need an apartment
In the nicest part of town
And Sarah needs a gown
For the prom

And we need everything
We believe we need
And we believe
We don't need
Our Mom

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Raise Up Your Hands to Heaven

Raise up your hands to Heaven
Until you feel the angels' toes
And you can wipe away the clouds
With your clever bitter prose

Just soak the sun into your palms
And pray away your worried stares

You can reach it
You can feel it

Raise up your hands to Heaven
And the rest will lift itself

Shadow Dance

There's gonna be a shadow dance tonight
Looks like we're gonna light up the world
With the absence of our darkness

There are gonna be people there
Who wish they could dance
Better than they can


But we'll let 'em come and dance anyway
And play them music by the fire
Convinced that we'll be friends

When our shadows
Run together

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

In a Fancy Hotel

We're going to stay in a fancy hotel
Because we need a vacation
From our rented lives

We're going to jump
On high hotel beds
And fall asleep
Eight feet
Above the carpeted floor

We're going to order room service
And movies on the hotel tv

We're going to act like a wealthy family
In a penthouse suite

Because we're going to lose the house

We tried to keep it
But it didn't work out
So next week
We go to live
With Mom's Mom and Dad

And our home

Our home won't be our home
Anymore

But tonight we take
The last of our savings
Which was too small a sum
To rescue our residence

And we act like we're royalty
Sleeping on high beds
And heading to an exotic locale
On a jet tomorrow morning

Tonight we're people with money
People with worth
People who matter
People who never had to work hard
Or experience disappointment
Or let their kids down

Tonight we stay
In a fancy hotel

And tomorrow
We'll think about
Later

Value

They stopped talking to me
When they found out
I sold to Patrick

My parents
They cut me off
Severed all ties

Blamed me for it
For Patrick
For his problems

They didn't thank me
For giving him shit that's safe
That isn't laced
With shit that's gonna kill him

They didn't apologize to me
For him breaking into my apartment
Going through my things
Breaking my trophies
From when I played football

They didn't say 'Sorry'

They acted like
He wasn't going to get the shit
If I didn't sell it to him

Oh, yeah

That was what they had the problem with
Don't let me forget to mention that

They were mad
Because I SOLD it to him

Because giving him drugs
Well, that they couldn't bitch me out for
That wouldn't get me kicked out of the house
Because, let's face it
Ma keeps refilling her prescriptions
For back pain she hasn't had in years
And you know why

Because it's as close as she can come
To buying him drugs
Without feeling like a textbook enabler

And she forgot to get the refill
And then he went and broke into my place
And when I found him there
He was licking chewing gum dust
Off a fucking silver wrapper
That he found in my garbage

Fuckin junkie

So I sold him some shit
Because he tried to steal
He tried to steal from me
His brother

He needed to learn about value
That things have value
That my shit has value
That actions have consequences
And that even those consequences have value

I live my life
According to values

And guess who taught me that?

The two people
Who kicked me out of the house
For teaching my little brother
A lesson
About values

They can stock up their cabinets
But that doesn't teach him shit

When I busted him for the last twenty
He had in his pocket
I knew he was going to have one last hit
And then go get himself clean

Or he was going to die

Both of those things
Have value

Life can have a value
But so can death
And so can twenty bucks
And so can a hit
And so can a baby brother

But a junkie

HAS-NO-VALUE

What my mother and father taught me
And the promptly forgot
Was that when a person loses their value
The only way to help them
Is to take them all the way back down to zero

Because it's a lot easier
To climb up from zero
Than from anywhere else

So I took my brother's last twenty bucks
And I gave him his bit
And then I threw him out

Reset him back to zero

He didn't have the money
To buy any more
And the shit he had was safe

So I did him a favor

And when he didn't come home
My parents called
And they asked what happened

And I told them

I told them I sold to Patrick

And that was it

. . . . .

They didn't let me go
When--

To the wake

They didn't let me go

They blamed me for it

Called me a cheap dealer
Said I was so greedy
I sold to my own brother

But it wasn't about greed
It wasn't about the money

It was all about value

I had to take his value from him
So he could see

So he could see
How far he was
From the sixteen-year-old kid
That was my brother

And I guess in some ways
I rolled the dice

I hope he'd see

And he didn't

So he stayed at zero

I gambled, you know?

It was a gamble

That's the thing about value
The difference between that
And money

Money you can hold
You can look at it
You can smell it
You can rip it up

But value's like faith

You never really feel it
Until it's gone

Monday, February 8, 2010

Josh's Million Dollar Birthday

Josh wanted a million dollars
For his birthday
I'm not kidding
That's what he asked for
A million dollars

He was turning six
Six-year-olds are mini-tycoons
Mini-Scrooge McDucks
It all makes sense
If you think about it

Unfortunately
Money was a little tight
Too tight
For a million dollar birthday

So my husband, Chris
And I had to be creative

. . . . .

When Josh woke up
On the morning of his sixth birthday
He found that his entire room
Was filled with balloons

Balloons everywhere

Hanging from the ceiling
Pouring out of the closet
Taped to the walls

(Have you ever tried sticking that little nub
On the bottom of a balloon
To a wall?

It's not easy)

And on Josh's nightstand
There was a pin
And a note

It said--

'Go ahead--pop them.'

So Josh popped his balloons

And therein lied
The sugary goodness

Skittles
M&M's
Reese's Pieces

Apparently the Dollar Store down the street
Had its entire candy aisle cleaned out
The night before

Coincidentally
They were also having a sale
On balloons

By the time Josh was done popping
He had accrued an entire bedroom floor
Filled with candy

Only then did he open his bedroom door
To find a red wagon in front of it
And Emilio the Dog
Was hitched to it

(A dog we should NOT have
Because the landlord would flip
But we found him behind an Arby's
And he had sweetheart eyes
That nobody could say no to)

Once Josh was in the red wagon
Emilio the Dog trotted into the living room
Where there was a costume party going on
Featuring several strangers in masks
Who screamed with delight when Josh appeared

The guests consisted of Batman, Superman,
Wolverine, Spongebob, Richard Nixon,
Moses, Hillary Clinton, Spiderman,
Some Old Guy With a Beard
Who Could Have Either Been Moses or Ben Hur

(So Maybe it was Charlton Heston)

Mr. T, Pee Wee Herman, Lucille Ball
The Jonas Brothers, and Captain Underpants

(Apparently, the Costume Club
Was having a going-out-of-business sale
And the entire mask section was devoured
The night before
By two very silly parents

Two very silly parents
Who recruited every friend they had
A few lovely neighbors
And one extra-lovely mailman
To play costume ball
In the living room)

Josh mingled with his morning guests
Excited at the prospect
Of a party in the living room
At ten o'clock in the am
When most kids were still sleeping
On a Saturday morning

Then Lucille Ball led him into the kitchen
Where there was a HAMBURGER BUFFET!

Hamburgers everywhere
With every kind of topping

Mustard, ketchup, onions,
Relish, pickles, cucumbers,
Tomatoes--

(BARF! But some people like them--some people like Josh, and it WAS his birthday)

And Josh could have
As many hamburgers
As he wanted
Because hamburgers
Were his favorite food!

(Apparently the local deli--owned and operated
By a very nice family
Knew that it was Josh's birthday
And that he loved hamburgers
And had donated the entire feast
Which made his silly parents
Cry right in front of the meat cutter)

Josh turned around to thank Lucille Ball
For surprising him with this hamburger feast
And Lucille Ball removed her mask
Revealing his Aunt Stacey
Who he LOVED! and hadn't seen in FOUR WHOLE DAYS!

After he had eaten two hamburgers
With the WORKS

He decided to take a shower

But when he walked into the bathroom
He found that it had been turned into a ROCKETSHIP

There were glowing stars all over the walls
And glowing moons and glowing planets
And glowing letters that spelled the words

'JOSH'

And

'SPACE'

And

'WELCOME TO SPACE'

And

'SHYME'

Which was the word
That was composed
Using the left-over letters

(There had been a sale at the Sticker Shack in the mall
And every sticker relating to space had been purchased
At a very reasonable price
Since Josh's parents knew how badly
He wanted to be an astronaut)

Josh took a shower
In complete darkness
Lit only
By the light
From the sticker stars
And he was certain
He was the first boy
To ever do this

When he went into his room to change into his party outfit
He found a deep lavender leisure suit
Like something out of a sci-fi novel
Waiting for him
And not the uncomfortable shirt and tie
He had expected his mother
To set out for him

(Apparently his mother and father decided
That six-year-olds should not have to wear
Something they don't want to wear
On their birthday
And the leisure suit
Which was FAR TOO BIG for a five-year-old
But fit a six-year-old perfectly
Had been found in a box in the closet
Untouched by time or--thankfully--moths)

Josh put on his purple attire
And paraded out into the living room
Once again aided by a red wagon
And Emilio the dog

Once in the living room
Richard Nixon brought out a cake
And all the guests sang Josh's favorite song--

'Booty Fresh' by Tang

And he blew out the candles
And proceeded to eat five more hamburgers
While Uncle Russ who had been hiding under the Mr. T mask
Taught him to play poker
Which was a very adult game
And made Josh feel very adult indeed

The hours passed quickly
As the party moved onto the roof
Of the apartment building

Where tikki lights had been hung
And all of Josh's friends from school were there
Including his super cool teacher Mr. Meroda
Who let the kids have an extra recess
EVERY SINGLE DAY

(Josh's parents were very grateful for phone trees
And for Mr. Meroda
Who told Josh's parents
That Josh looked a little sick
And shouldn't he take the day off from school tomorrow?)

By the time all Josh's friends
And former Presidents had left
He was ready for bed

. . . . .

And I tucked my little boy in
And said to him--

'Honey, how do you feel?'

And he said--

'Like a millionaire, Mom.'

Mission accomplished