And Mom Can't Pay the Bills

There's no Christmas tree
Because she couldn't get a day off work
To go grab one for the two feet of carpet
That makes up their living room

The kitchen table is more for bills lately
Than food
And she can't pay any of them

And there's no convincing the credit card men
That she'll pay them off any day now
And can they please give her another one in the meantime
To buy her son Christmas presents with

Not this year, Mom, not this year

Her son plays in his room
With action figures from last year
She can hear him telling them
About the new friends they're going to have
In just a few days

Not this year

This year he might not even have a room
If the rent doesn't get paid on time

They'd have to move in with her mother
In that bad neighborhood
Where you lock your door
Even if you're just waiting in the car
For someone to come down and meet you

His dad hasn't sent a check
In so long
She wonders if he's dead
And part of her wishes he was
But it's hard to think things like that about him
When she looks at her son

He looks so much like his dad

She'll have to tell him some truth this year

It's pretty sad
When you can't even afford
The little white lies
Other parents feed to their kids

About Santa, and reindeer, and elves
And cookies
And Christmas

She's thinking about that
And the bills
And she doesn't even hear him
Come up behind her
And hand her the tray of cookies

'No, sweetie,' she says
Backing down already
From what she knows
She has to say

'Those are for Santa'

He looks at the cookies
Then at her

And says--

'It's okay, Mom.  You look like you need them more.'

She takes the cookies
Takes her kid in her arms
And knows that they'll get through

She's not sure of a lot
But she's sure she's tough
And so is her kid

And she knows
They'll get through Christmas

Muriel Faces the Wall

Mother, before you say anything
I just want you to know
That I'm already punishing myself
For my indiscretion

What did I do?

Does it really matter, Mother?

The point is
Actions have consequences
And so I must suffer the consequences
Of my foolish, foolish actions

Oh, I know this may seem harsh to you, Mother
But how else can you guarantee
That I won't do what I did again?

Mother, as I said
What I did doesn't matter
The point is that I'm being reprimanded before it
And as soon as I feel significantly sorry
I will be allowed to stop facing this wall
And carry on with my life
With a new understanding
About what is and isn't appropriate

And even though I feel
That I was not entirely wrong
In doing what I did
What I did, again, not being at all pertinent
To this discussion

The issue is that you would probably feel it was wrong
If you knew what it was I did
Which you won't
Because it's being handled
It's all being handled, Mother

And aren't you--and I'm not trying to play my own cello here
But aren't you glad you have a daughter
Who takes disciplining into her own hands?
So that you can worry about more pressing matters
Like the fact that the top you're wearing isn't properly ironed
Or that this wallpaper is incredibly tacky

I admit, I never noticed it before
But now that it's mere centimeters from my face--

Call my teacher?

Oh Mother, there's really no reason to do that
Why drag another innocent person
Into this unfortunate, unfortunate--yet private
Family matter?

The deed is done
The shame has been felt
And felt deeply
And now I'm facing the wall

It's almost poetic
Wouldn't you say, Mother?

You know, I'm actually starting to enjoy this
This feeling of redemption that's washing over me
As I face this wall

That, or perhaps I'm a masochist

What's that, Mother?

Your head hurts?

I would gladly offer you an aspirin
But I'm afraid I'm a little busy
What with all this child-rearing and I--

Go play?

Are you sure?

But you don't even know what I--

Oh well, I guess I have learned my lesson

I promise I'll never do it again
At least, not the same way
And not until I make sure the person who ratted me out
Pays severely for it

And please, Mother
Don't torment yourself
Over making me face the wall
For all four of those grueling minutes

I know you're doing the best you can as a parent
And one day I'll thank you for it

In the meantime, please remember
That my resentment for you
Is merely a child's resentment
And with time, it will pass

Now, if you'll excuse me
I'm going to go reflect on what I've learned
And come up with less barbaric ways of disciplining myself
When I err again, as I'm sure I will

I am mostly human, after all

Courage, Mother, courage
Nobody ever said
Raising kids was easy

Shelter

Why are you shivering?

Did you miss the last bus
Out of here?

I hear it's going to rain
You might wanna get shelter
If you can

See these wings of mine?
They're made of metal
Made of scraps
I found in a junkyard

They can cover you
If you need them to
They're no good for flying
But they're okay for shelter

Are you from around these parts?
Do I sound like like I'm speaking
A different language
Than you?

Please stop shivering

I'm getting cold
Just looking at you
In that ratty old coat

Bet you came from two towns over
Bet you ran away from home
Bet you got a baby coming
Bet you've never been alone

Did I push too many buttons

Please don't run
I'm only half a monster
I don't feel like hurting anyone
Tonight

Unless that's what you're looking for
Do you like the way you shiver?

Did you want to find someone
Who could show you love the way you knew
Who could make you understand
That you're exactly who they said you were?

How much do you have on you?
How much do you need to hide?
How much shelter are we talking?

Maybe what you need is a ride

You can come hop in my car
I won't say that you'll be safe
But at least you can stop waiting
For the other shoe to drop

My hands are stained with salt and dirt
Got a few bucks, but not much else
Sometimes I get really angry
So I can't say you'll be okay

I'll drive you somewhere nice and quiet
Where you and I can talk some more
Maybe afterwards I'll bring you back here
And you can catch a bus back home
Or wherever it is you planned on going

Just know that I'm not promising anything

Just know that I'm upfront

I'm half bad, you know

And I can't tell you which half is going
To be around when

But when it comes
It's usually real bad

And it stays for awhile
It sticks on me
Like the salt on my hands

Leaves a funny taste in the mouth

But at least if you chance it
If you come for a ride
I can keep you under my wings
Underneath the scrap metal

I can hide you from the rain

The rain can be just as bad as me
When it wants to be

So I guess you have to figure out
What it is you want

But either way
You gotta gamble

Either way
You're looking
At a rough road
Ahead

Couple Things

I know what's going on here

I'm being phased out
Because I
Can longer do
Couple things

Because it's awkward for you
You, coupled people
To hang out with me
Despite the fact
That some of you have been friends with me
For over a decade

And now when I see you
You look terrified

It's as if divorce is something
You think you can catch from me
Like the flu

Oh, and I'm sorry I can't take part in four hour discussions
About what color a future babies' room might be
Jesus Christ, do you remember when you all had MINDS?

Don't get me wrong
I know you're in a bubble
I was in the bubble too
But now I'm out of the bubble
And I have to tell you
The air can be much nicer out here

Is it a bit lonelier? 

Yes

But not because I lost my husband

It's because I lost my friends

It's bad enough that I feel like I failed
I don't need all of you looking at me like I failed
Treating me like I did something wrong
Because you're what?

Scared that I'll talk about how great it is to be single again?

To go on vacations whenever I feel like it
To spend every holiday with my family instead of splitting it between them and my in-laws, the Manson Family?
To be having sex again with men who actually know what they're doing?

Are you afraid that'll just all sound too appealing to you
And you'll start to think about jumping ship as well?

Because let's face it

Most of you are with who you're with
Not because you fell in love
But because you panicked

Well, if I were you
I'd keep panicking

Because the odds are most of you
Are going to be where I am
Long before death makes you part

And don't think that when that happens
You're going to come crawling back to me
So I can show you how to adjust

Because by then I'll have new single friends
Who are excited to do single things
Not couple things

Not group trips to Bermuda
Or a day on someone's boat
Or a weekend at someone's cabin

Can I ask you all something?

Why is it that in every group of yuppie, coupled friends
There is somebody with a boat
And somebody with a cabin
And everybody acts all excited that they get to go on the boat
Or to the cabin

'Oh yes, this weekend, we're all going to John's cabin in Vermont on this amazing lake where there's water and the occasional bird and maybe one of us will see a deer and we'll talk about it incessantly for forty-eight straight hours because that's ALL THAT HAPPENS THERE!'

Why do we look forward to that
When all we do when we get there
Is drink until we don't know where we are anyway?

Why don't we just sit in our living rooms and do that?
That's what I do now

Do you actually think getting drunk on a yacht with your spouse
And getting drunk in your kitchen with your cat
Is all that different?

Because it's not

You just tell yourself it is
So you have a reason
To stop looking at the door

I'm sorry I can't do those couple things anymore
But you know what I can do?

I can start thinking about all the stuff
I liked doing
Before I had to couple things

Before I had to pretend that I liked skiing
Or Scrabble on a Saturday night
Or acting like mature, older married people
When I don't feel all that old!

I feel like myself again
Like a person
Not part of a couple
Or a group
Or anything other than me

And if this sounds a little 'I Will Survive'
That's because I've been listening to it
Constantly
For the past three weeks

I love you all
I really do
And I don't mean to shit all over your lives
And I won't do it again
Provided you just stop shitting on mine
And stop being my friends again

My friends who had interests, and hobbies
And passions, and intelligence
And could care less
About which pre-school is most likely
To get their into Harvard

Just come back to me, guys
Please?

Just knock off the couple things
Every once in awhile
So you can hang out with me
So we can remind ourselves
That before we became the people
We are today
We were cool

We were really, really cool

I miss those people
Don't you miss them?

I mean...

Don't you?

Well...

I guess it's just...

Well

Barbie Quits

I have dyed my hair black
Not brown, not light brown
Not peach or pink or cherry red

Black

Because, from this point on
I will no longer be
The bubbly, happy
Dream Car driving
Malibu bimbo
You sons-of-bitches have forced me to be
For all these years

Do you realize that I am fifty-two years old
And I have never frowned once!

Do you know what that does to a person?

To never experience sorrow or loss
Like when my kid sister, Skipper
Failed to sell well
And was taken off the market?

I just had to carry on with my life
As if everything was normal

I had to stay upbeat
Because the Barbie Astronaut line
Was being unveiled
And if it didn't sell
Two manufacturing plants
Were going to be shut down
Right before Christmas

Are you hearing what it is I'm saying here?

If I didn't convince little girls
That I, a doll who up to that point
Had only ever been a baby-sitter
And a dog-walker
Was now capable of walking on the moon
Then thousands of people
Were going to be out of work

Do you have any idea how much pressure that is?

It's not like they gave me acting classes
There was no acting class Barbie
There was no 'goes to college' Barbie
There was no 'vacations in Aruba while she writes poetry on the beach so she can reflect on her life' Barbie

Do you know that most real women my age
Are going through Menopause
And I'm supposed to launch a new ad campaign next month
Where I'm a genetic scientist who comes with a cute little dog named Terry
And a brush for combing her hair

Because apparently
Toymakers think that in between studying D.N.A.
And coming up with cures for cancer
Geneticists are really preoccupied with making sure
Their bangs look just great

Well, screw that

I cut my hair

I cut it, I dyed it
And I got a tattoo on my arm
That says 'Newsflash: Ken's Gay'

Are you really all that surprised?
The man has blonde streaks in his hair
I mean, c'mon

I don't think they're going to be
Putting me in an ad campaign anytime soon

Not unless they want to do
A Sons of Anarchy Barbie

Actually, I wouldn't be totally opposed to--

Never mind!

The point is, I'm quitting

I'm quitting and nobody can change my mind

It was one thing when they wanted me to be a mindless tramp
With great cars and great houses
And perfect hair

But now I'm supposed to have it all
And do it all

I'm supposed to be the tramp and the physical trainer
And the scientist and the astronaut
And the zookeeper and the nurse
And the school teacher and the pioneer women
And I say No!

No, no, no

Before we were teaching little girls
That they couldn't be anything
Now we're teaching them
That they have to be everything!

Or their gay plastic boyfriend
Won't love them

Well, you know what I want to be?

I want to be a chain-smoking, line-dancing
Guitar-playing, ice sculptor

That's who I've wanted to be
That's who I've always wanted to be

Oh, and I want my sister back

Even if she was a total moron

So you're going to have find some other girl
To play dress up with

Because from now on
I'm putting on my own damn clothes
And I'm wearing whatever I want

Tinsel the Elf, Holiday Tour Guide

Welcome to the Holiday Village
I'm your guide
Tinsel the Elf
And this is my first day on the job
So please bear...

(Flips index card over)

...with me

If you look to your left
You can see Santa's Stable
Where he keeps his ho--

(Flips index card over)

--liday friends

Later on in the tour
We'll stop by the stable
For a visit with Rudolph

Does anyone know why Rudolph's nose is red?

Here's a hint
It's not cocaine

We don't do drugs here at the holiday village
Unless Christmas spirit is a drug
In which case
Line up a bump for me
Down Frosty's torso
Because I need a hit
Of that old Christmas cheer

Can I get an a--

(Flips index card over)

--men?

Uh oh, what's that noise I hear?
Could that be Santa revving up his sleigh
For his magical trip
Around the world
Where he will deliver presents
To boys and girls from Hel--

(Flips index card.)

--sinki to New York?

I think it just might be!

We'd better all rush to Santa's house
So we can get cookies and milk
From Mrs. Clause
Before she gets too old and dies

Because, as we all know
Though Christmas will always live on
In the hearts of children and people who work at Target
Everyone involved with it--Santa, Mrs. Clause, the elves
Will one day die and turn into a scattering of ash across the North Pole

Most likely in a surprise
Polar bear attack

This month alone we've had to replace three of the reindeer
We're on our third Blitzen in two years

It's kinda depressing when you think about it
But what it teaches us
Is to live in the moment

The moment when we're alive
Because, as I said
We won't be for long

(Flips index card.)

You know what's fun?

Making snow angels!

Let's do that while our cookies bake
In Mrs. Clause's oven

Just be on the look-out for those polar bears
They seem to be extra-aggressive this season

If you look in your complimentary swag bag
You'll find a machete
That you can use to defend yourselves with
Should the polar bears ambush us

Just consider that an early Christmas present
From all of us here at the North--

(Flips index card.)

--Pole

To all of you

Merry--

(Flips index card.)

--Cocaine.

Oh darn, I think I got these cards
Mixed up

I Had Better Sex Alone

Sarah Jane, I'm telling you
It was a total waste of time
Sex with that man
Was fourteen hours of my life
I will never get back

Oh, well, sure
He had stamina
But I'm not a marathon, Sarah Jane
Not that I was going to stop him
I am polite after all

Oh, and all those tricks and techniques
Having sex with him
Was like watching a movie
Where all your friends tell you
That you're never going to figure out the twist ending
And then five minutes into the movie, you realize the hero's best friend
Is a figment of her imagination
And you also realize
That all your friends are stupid
And now you're stuck in a room for two hours
Wondering why you didn't stay home
And rent something On Demand

Truth be told, Sarah Jane
I had better sex alone
I really did

Oh, don't get all prude on me
You've had twins
Things have happened to your body
That would make Stephen King pass out

There I was, last night, with him
Hanging onto my rain gutters for dear life
When I thought to myself
I'm too old to be having
This kind of sex

Oh sure, when you're in college
All you want to do
Is have sex on as many different surfaces
And ponds and lakes
And in vehicles
And various department stores
And amusement park rides and...

Where was I going with this?

Oh right, I'm old
Well, I'm older

Honey, I got stuff to do

And I feel bad for making him work that hard
When the washing machine he had me on top of
Was giving me more of a thrill than he was

Next time, I'm just going to stay in
Put my phone on silent
And crack open a bottle of wine

You should try it, Sarah Jane
Send those twins out with your husband for a night
And take yourself to town

Oh, please
If we were men
There would be nothing uncomfortable
About this conversation

All men talk about is masturbating

My ex-boyfriend used to keep a notebook
With all his statistics them

How often he'd do it
How it felt
How one time compared to the other

He was like the Albert Einstein
Of hitching his honeypot

Oh, that man's calling me again

Poor thing

I'd give him one more try
But I already opened the bottle of wine
And Body Heat is on

He probably thinks I'm blowing him off
For another man

He doesn't realize just how stiff
His competition really is

The Cool Table

At the end of the cool table
We keep the Inuit
Who whittles and prays
But we don't know to who
Because we don't know who Eskimos, uh, Inuits
Believe in, but we're pretty sure it's something like our god
So we bow our head when he prays
And then we eat our ham on toast
And our banana slices
And the leftover kabob from last night

The Inuit was expelled
From the cheerleader's table
When they found out he couldn't handle
Being at the base of the Pyramid
We welcomed him to our table
With assurances that we are the real cool table
And being at the base of the Pyramid is overrated anyway
Especially since the last time it collapsed
And half the squad landed on poor Polly Pepperson

The Inuit, who we call Morgan
Fits right in at our table
We already have a Samurai
Who transferred here from the all-girl school
Two towns over
We didn't know there were girl Samurais
But apparently there are
And they're not exactly treated kindly
By the boy Samurais at the Samurai table at our school
So we invited her to sit with us
And she says we have 'honor'
Which, coming from a Samurai
Really means something

In the middle of our table sits Jonathan Carroll
Who feels awkward sitting at the bestsellers table
With James Patterson and Danielle Steel
We tell him that those people aren't even real
They're robots with pens for hands
And laptops where their hearts should be
And this cheers him up
And he reads to us from 'White Apples'
Which is a very, very good book

All kinds of people sit at our table
Musicians, artists, dancers
Mathematicians, mechanics, hair stylists
Revolutionary war buffs, honor students, and the entire volleyball team

Every day we have to add another table
Onto our original table
So that we can have room
For all these new cool people

We could just tell them
To sit somewhere else
But why do that
When you can just put ten tables together
And have a giant cool table
That stretches from one end of the cafeteria
To the others

The teachers were a little concerned
That this might be a fire hazard
But before they could tell us
To move the tables back
They saw us make room
For Cody, the blind kid
Who will one day be C.E.O.
Of a software company

When the teachers figure out
That we've got room for everybody
At our cool table
They leave us alone
And spend the entire lunch
Yelling at James Patterson
For letting a ghost writer
Do his homework for him

We feel like we're in a banquet hall
Instead of a high school cafeteria

Cheering each other on
And singing songs
And drinking grog (or maybe Pepsi, but whatever)
And rejoicing that we have our Kingdom of Cool

And every once in awhile
We look down at the end of the table
Where Morgan the Inuit
Is telling a joke
And unwrapping his lunch
And smiling for the first time
Since we've known him

And we figure that maybe he's starting to feel okay

Maybe he's starting to feel
Right at home

The Man My Kids Think I Can Be

My kids think I can bend our coffee table

Without breaking it

They think I can take solids

And make them rubber

Or make them disappear

When something bad happens

Dad can hold it up

And make two fists

Then knock them against his forehead

Sometimes knocking himself to the ground

While the kids laugh

And when I open those fists

The bad stuff is gone

At least...

They think it is

But let's not get too serious

My kids don't think I'm serious

They look at kids with serious Dads

Then they look at me

And grab my hand

And I can see them thinking to themselves--

I'm glad my Dad's not like that

But the problem is that

Sometimes I feel like I suck

At being a Dad

I'm great at being a buddy

And a joker

And a coffee table bender

But when that bad stuff disappears

I just put it behind my ears

And sometimes it falls down

And lands in me

Where it turns into worse stuff

Than little kids' fears

Sometimes it falls too hard on me

And I have to go drive

Drive anywhere

For a long time

Until I find a place I can leave it

So I don't bring it back home with me

My Dad never did that

He let all that hard stuff

Fall on me

And I said 'okay'

Because it was better than watching it

Fall on my mom or my sisters

I remember saying 'Never' more than any other word

And when I had kids I said it even more

Never, never, never

Would I have that

In my house

Fear, anger, violence

I thought I could keep it out

But I can

But when I put my kids to sleep

I can see that look on their face

I know I never had on mine

That look that says--

We're safe

We're safe here

My kids think I can keep them safe

And in line with my words

Instead of my fists

And laughing

And learning

And loved

They think I'm Superman, you know?

Sometimes I see them looking behind me

Watching the red cape

Wave in the wind

And when that bad stuff hits me

When it lands on me

And I wonder what to do with it

If I have it in me

To drive away again

To go further and further

To make sure

That I can drop it off somewhere

Where it won't find its way back

And when it does

I wonder if I should just let it stay

I wonder when my dad made that decision

I wonder when he decided

That it was just easier

To let it stay

When I feel that

When I feel that urge

To throw my hands up

And my keys in the bowl

By the door

And sit on my couch

And open a beer

And say 'To hell with it'

It's too hard

It's too damn hard

And it's heavier now

It's heavier than it ever was

I remind myself

I remind myself about the man

My kids think I can be

Daddy can fly and stop bullets

And be all the stuff

It's too hard to be

And deal with it

So that they never have to have

This stuff fall on them

There are days when I can't be that guy

When I'm no good at being Superman

When I'm no good at being strong

When I'm no good at being Dad

But I fight back

I remember

That I'm always telling them

They can be anything they want to be

So can't I be the man

They think I can be?

Yeah, I can

I can be

And I make sure they watch me

While I teach them

How to make the bad stuff

Disappear

It's all about
Looking at it
And saying--

I'm better

I'm better than the bad stuff
That might fall on me

I teach them to say--

I can be anything
The people who love me
Think I can be

Tempted

I said I'd better get
Comfortable in this loneliness
Because it wasn't going to change
Because I wasn't going to let it change
Because every time I stop being lonely
I start being stupid
Getting stupid, whatever
Whatever it is
It's better for me
If I stay lonely

But...

You've got me saying 'Well..."
With that extra bit of something
That possibility
That I could be stupid
All over again

I really have to say
You've got me feeling
Tempted

In the way you never push
Never ask me for a thing
Show up without me asking
Say 'Yes' before I finish the question
Let me finish all my never ending stories
Make me feel like I don't care
About what anybody thinks
Like I'm a short girl in a pop song

I'm tempted
I'm very tempted

To be the kinda person
Who could move you in tomorrow
Who could call you twenty times
Who could dance off into darkness
Without worrying at all

Tempted to say screw it
And adorn my fingers with your rings
One for commitment
One for craziness
One for happiness
One for good luck

Tempted to believe
When I swore I gave it up
Take me back to immature
I'll put your picture in a locker
Buy a notebook
Just to write your name on the front of it

Look what you did to me
I was sure, and now I'm tempted
I was solid, now I'm air

I was someone
Now I'm everyone
I said I wouldn't be

Please be aware
That I'm not there yet

I'm not ready to give in

But just know
That I'm tempted

This is what you've done
To me

I don't know how long I can stay tempted
But I guess there are worse things
I could be

A Johnston Fender Bender

Hey there, this is Officer Patterson
From the JPDTDFBU

The, uh, Johnston Police Department
Traffic Divison
Fender Bender Unit

Yes, crimes involving fender benders are considered
Especially heinous

Look, I got a really nasty one here
The bumper's got at least three dings on it
And the passenger in one of the two cars
Says she feels, quote, 'eh, a little rattled'

This could get real ugly
Real fast

I'm going to need a S.W.A.T. team here
A.S.A.P.

Huh?

Look, if you think you're going to throw your bureaucratic bull at me
And make me wade through red tape
To get what I need to keep my men safe
Then I'll come down to that little paper pushing pussyhouse
You call an office
And show you how we handle things
On the mean streets of Johnston, Rhode Island

My men are--

Well, I mean, my man
My man is--

I only have one man

Joey Turcotti
Maybe you know him?
His brother's a waiter
At Fugili's on the west--

The point is, he feels unsafe

The driver of one of the cars
Is acting erractic
And I think he may be a terrorist

Maybe this is all just a distraction
And they're taking over Johnston Post Office
As we speak

What do you mean what would they want
With the Johnston Post Office?

Do you have any idea
What would happen to the town of Johnston
If its mail was compromised?

There'd be chaos
All those copies of Yankee Magazine
Not getting to their subscribers
And the--

Well, if you're not going to give me a S.W.A.T team
At least get me a helicopter
And an army tank

How about a jeep?
A motorcycle?
A mountain bike?

What about a submarine?

I can cart everybody here
To a nearby pond
And we can just blow the whole thing up

Wait, what were we talking about?

At the Academy
They always said I had trouble keeping focus

The Johnston Police Academy

Well, it's not exactly an Academy
We use the back room
Of the Atwood Grille
And occasionally, the all night McDonald's

The point is, I could really use some back-up here

It looks like the other driver may have a cut on her hand
And my partner Joey faints at the sight of blood

Is there any way you could send in a few ambulances
And maybe a fire truck?

I don't see any fires yet
But the kids sure do love 'em

Hello?

...Hello?

Looks like the town didn't pay their phone bill again

Damn these budget cuts

JOEY!  Make sure the safety on your gun is off

You never know when things
Are going to get
Crazy

What Chrissy Leaves the House In

My daughter, Chrissy
Leaves the house
In nothing but a bikini

Covered only by a blanket
That says--

'Love Slut'

And army boots
And a hat with smurfs on it
And a smile

I know what the other mothers will say

They'll say--

'Who lets their daughter go to school dressed like that?'

When I talk about the other mothers
I like to imagine that the 'o' and 'm' are capitalized

I think of them as--

The Other Mothers

A secret society of women
Whose only job
Is to make other women
Feel bad about themselves

Oh, and to bake

In my head they bake
They bake incessantly
While talking about my daughter
And her smurf hat

Do I think she looks good?

Of course not
I'm not even sure
She thinks she looks good

But do you remember the part
Where I talked about her smile?

How she leaves the house smiling?

I'm not sure the Other Mothers realize
What that smile is worth

Or rather, I'm not sure they realize
What the opposite of that smile
Would cost

I've seen the other side of that smile
And let me tell you something
I'd rather face down a female gorilla in heat
Than my daughter
When she's told she can't do something

The Other Mothers don't realize
That I was not given a daughter
Who obeys

I now believe obedience is a quality
That some are born with
And some are not

My daughter was born with no obedience
And her father's temper
So I knew I was screwed
From the beginning

And since then, I have learned
To pick my battles

I will go to war over drugs
Violence, stealing, pregnancy
Piercings lower than the neck
Tattoos higher than the neck
And flunking out of school

But smurf hats and army boots?

I let it go

I have seen the devil
And the devil is not a smurf hat

The devil is a boy named Chris
Spelled 'K-R-Y-S-Exclamation point'
Who showed up at my house
Wearing a t-shirt that said--

'Slut Banger'

Considering my daughter's blanket
Said 'Love Slut'
I didn't entirely believe the two of them
When they said they were going to, quote--

'Hang out at a church, or something'

My daughter doesn't put up a fight
When I tell her that if Krys walked into a church
He'd probably turn to ash
Or the church would catch on fire
Because she knows
That a mother who picks her battles
Usually wins the battles she picks

So she went back into her room
And started sewing the words 'Moms Blow'
On a pair of booty shorts

I'm guessing she'll be wearing them Monday to school
If you're interested in checking out her handiwork

I dream that one day she'll wear a business suit
Instead of a parka over a panda bear costume

Or an evening gown
Instead of pajama pants
And a tank top
Made out of saran wrap

Or just something...normal

Some mothers, Other Mothers
Harp on their daughters
For not being pretty enough

I'd kill to have mine walk out of her room one day
In a t-shirt and jeans

And I'm sure she will

...One day

But until then, I'll just keep making her breakfast
And asking her about her day
And telling her that her cape is askew
And that her Elmo sunglasses are adorable
And that I think dyeing her hair bright orange
Is a fantastic idea
And would she like help with that?

Because, to be honest
As long as she remembers to kiss me on the cheek
And smile at me before she goes
In my mind

She doesn't look
All that bad

When the Men Do "As You Like It"

"...and it's really about collaboration."
"Isn't it?"
"And community."
"Yes--exactly."
"And she keeps wanting to make it about--"
"Competition."
"It's like she has--"
"Bloodlust."
"Well--"
"--or something."
"She's competitive."
"Right."
"She's just--"
"She's crazy.  I mean--"
"Everything has to be so--"
"I know.  I know!"
"It's nuts."
"It really is."
"I mean, we're artists.  Aren't we?  Aren't we all supposed to be artists?"
"We're supposed to be.  She's supposed to be, but--"
"I mean, it's in our titles.  We're Artistic Directors."
"It's amazing who they'll give that title to now.  That used to mean something.  Artistic Director.  Now every college kid who has enough money to rent a church basement and put on 'Tartuffe' is an Artistic Director.'
"It's crazy."
"It's really crazy.  She's crazy."
"So what ends up happening is that it becomes us versus her, you know?  Which is so sad."
"I mean, Ohio's not that big."
"It's not.  And for us to have to fight like that--"
"What can you do?  She thinks it makes him better, maybe, to fight us like this."
"She tries to make it a boy versus girl thing, which is--"
"Damn, you know, I resent that.  I really do.  I resent that.  It's not a question of gender."
"She tries to make it seem like we don't do women's plays, or plays for women, or plays about women--"
"Screw her.  I'm sorry, but screw that bitch.  I love women."
"--and I  keep saying, didn't we do that play last year?  That play about the woman who gets raped?  Didn't we do that one?  And it's like nobody cares.  They're so intent on painting us to be these misogynistic assholes that whenever do something that goes against that they just turn a blind eye."
"Did you direct that play?"
"What play?"
"The one about the woman."
"No, I gave that to Kelly."
"Oh."
"Because she's a woman."
"Ohhh, right.  That makes sense."
"She did a great job with it."
"Of course she did.  She's a woman."
"And there were women in it.  It was a woman's show.  Why does she keep saying we don't do women's shows?"
"No clue.  Not a clue."
"It's just really frustrating."
"What can you do?  She's just a miserable hag.  All women go nuts when they get to be that age."
"Imagine if we were women.  If we were women dealing with her, imagine how that would be."
"There'd be catfights."
"Constant catfights."
"Women get so petty."
"It's unfortuante though, you know, because it should really be about collaboration."
"Community."
"Right.  Collaboration and community.  Like what we have."
"Well, if she doesn't want that, then it's her loss."
"It really is.  It's really her loss."
"And it's a big one."
"A really big one."
"Okay, enough about that wacko.  What are you opening next year with, do you know yet?"
"Yeah, it's all locked in.  We're doing 'As You Like It.'"

. . . . .

"Uh...wait, what?"
"'As You Like It.'"
"Like...by Shakespeare?'"
"No, by Aristotle.  Yeah, by Shakespeare."
"Um, well, okay, this is, uh--"
"What?"
"Well...we're doing it."
"Yeah."
"Like, right now."
"Yeah, I know."
"So..."
"So...?"
"So don't you think it's a little pointless for you to be doing it?  I mean, September's only a few months away."
"Well, I wouldn't say it's pointless.  People do that show all the time.  I mean, it's Shakespeare."
"But we're ten miles away from each other."
"I know."
"We have a lot of the same audience."
"I know."
"We're part of, you know, the--community."
"I know all this.  Why are you--"
"So why would you do the same show we're doing within the same year as us?  It just seems...unnecessary."
"Well, it's a great play."
"Of course it's a great play, it's Shakespeare.  That's why we did it.  But there are other great plays."
"I just think we'll bring a different...uh...different..."
"You think you can do it better."

. . . . .

"That's not what I said."
"Why else would you do it if you didn't think you could do it better?'
"I think we can do it differently."
"Uh, okay."
"Different doesn't necessarily mean better."
"Good."
"So you--"
"Because it won't be better."
"I'm sorry?"
"It won't be better than ours.  Our production is stellar.  With all due respect, knowing your resources and your talent, your production.  Will not.  Be Better.  Than Ours."

. . . . .

"Well, uh--wow."
"I said with all due--"
"With all due respect, go fuck yourself."
"Excuse me?"
"You see how 'with all due respect' didn't really take the edge off that?"
"Okay, we're getting--"
"I think no matter how many productions of a show there are, there are good points and bad points to every production, and usually those points are very different depending on a multitude of factors.  I can't believe that a grown adult who works in the arts, in the theater, would use a term like 'better' when describing their production compared to another production, especially a production done by a partner and friend."
"...You're right."
"I just--I mean, really, you know?  I mean, come on."
"I'm sorry.  You're right."

. . . . .

"That being said, I think what you said about our resources and talent was unfair and untrue--"
"I said I was sorry, but--"
"--more untrue, than unfair.  I think we have considerable resources, and the fact that we do have those resources, to me, says that we could probably do a production that would make your production look like a joke."
"...Uh...what?"
"I'm pretty sure that even the small amount of audiences that overlap between your theater and my theater would welcome the opportunity to see my theater do a production of 'As You Like It' after witnessing your theater do what I felt was a subpar production."
"You didn't even see it."
"I saw pictures."
"You can't judge a production by its pictures."
"On the contrary, in thirty years the only thing left to indicate how good a production was are the pictures.  Why do you think I throw money at sets and costumes instead of importing actors from other cities who might actually be able to speak the text without sounding like they're learning to talk as they go?  Because it doesn't matter.  Because every show I do photographs like a bowl of fresh fruit.  And you're telling me it's pointless for me to do a show you're doing?  You must be as crazy as that bitch and her blackbox troupe--"
"You know you might want to--"
"Do you have any idea how limited people's attention span is?  You could do the best production of the best play by the best playwright of all time and in three months they'll have forgotten about you.  Instead they'll be talking about the touring production of Phantom that went through that fast food theater known as the arts pavillion.  Who cares what you're doing now?  You want my theater to pick another play so that you can hold onto a little bit of success a week or two longer?  That's a fucking pipe dream.  By summer, nobody will remember what you did in January.  And if you're still holding onto January's successes in September, then you should find another job, because this--all of this--it melts.  Okay?  It fucking melts.  And how fast it melts depends on me, and how close I get to you.  Because me, my friend?  I'm a fucking hair dryer, okay?  I'm a hair dryer and you're a bowl of ice cream.  Bland, tasteless, vanilla ice cream.  And I'm pointing right at you.  You want me to turn away?  Then you better stop talking like we're equals, okay?  Like I need to worry about you.  Like my eight-hundred seats needs to worry about your two hundred seats.  Like I need to worry about offending you.  Stepping on your toes.  Just so you know, on my list of worries, getting eaten by a pack of motherfucking wolves is higher up on the list than offending you.  Okay?  What you do is quaint.  It's cute.  It's adorable.  But you're trying to say it's equal to what I do?  Please, all right?  Please."

. . . . .

"...Well..."
"So...what's your second show?"
"Um, I'm wondering something."
"Yeah?"
"Why are you so confident right now that I'm not going to stand up and punch you in the fucking face?"
"Because you're an adult.  And an artist.  You can take criticism.  You're tough--I assume."
"Yeah, but I'm not a doormat."
"You could be.  If I told you that I could do every show you're going to do next season, but a month before you do."
"Are you kidding me?"
"I'll admit that in that particular situation, I doubt our small crowd of overlapping audiences--a crowd my theater can get by without and your theater can't bear to lose--I doubt they'd be interested in seeing an entire season twice.  And who do you think they'd choose?  Because, I'll let you in on a little secret, even though we'd like to think that art can still be riveting with a folding chair and curtains for costumes, most people prefer not to have to use their imagination when they go to the theater.  If you say there's a chandelier hanging above the audience, there better fucking be a chandelier, and it better look expensive, or they're going to subscribe to a theater that can give them that chandelier.  Now, do you happen to have a chandelier hanging around anywhere in that little storage room of yours that doubles as your office?"

"............"

"I didn't think so.  So why don't you just cool down, and when people ask you how you feel about the fact that we're both doing 'As You Like It,' you go ahead and tell them that it'll be a different interpretation and you're looking forward to seeing it.  Sound good?"

. . . . .

"Sure."
"Great."
"I...sure."
"Fantastic.  See?  It's a good thing we're collaborators.  Part of a community.  It's a good thing we're both men.  Otherwise, that might have gotten ugly."

While You Talk About How Bad He Is

While you talk about how bad he is
I chew my nails
I stare at the floor
I try to nod sympathetically
Because I see that you feel passionately
About all of this
And, on the surface
You are flattering me
So, of course, I'm going to listen
And be kind

Some people would get angry at you
For talking this way
About the person they're seeing

'How dare you!' they'd say

And storm off
Claiming the world doesn't understand
What they see
In the person
They're dating

I know what you must think of me

You must think that I'm some incredibly deep person
The antithesis of shallow, or vain
Or maybe you think I have a savior complex
Or a bad boy complex
Or that I was unattractive growing up
And so my taste is stunted
And that's how I wind up with guys that look like him

While you talk about how bad he is
I notice you choosing your words slowly and cautiously
Afraid that I may lose track of the point
The point being a simple one
And so I wonder if you think
That perhaps
I'm just plain stupid

Do you think I'm unaware that people talk about me?
That they say 'oh, it's too bad'
That they say I could do so much better
That they fret and worry
Over my tender condition
That one day I'll realize I'm dating someone beneath me
And when it hits me
I'll be shaken to my core

You know, you should never assume
That a person is doing something
Without a reason

People always have reasons
For why they live where they live
Or work where they work
Or date who they date

While you talk about how bad he is
I think about your reason
For doing so

Because you want me?
You know you can have me

I wonder if I should tell you that
I wonder if I should say--

'Skip the argument, and just do what you want.'

But I don't

That wouldn't gel with the image of me
You love so much

The image, not me
I'm not what you love
Or want, rather

You see me as someone
Who's oblivious

Lost, in need of help

I don't need any help

What you don't realize
Is that I like being talked about
And nobody talks about you
When you date
Who you're supposed to

I want to be the good one
The one people say deserves better

Because, you see
In every relationship
There's the good one
And the bad one

And I decided a long time ago
That it would be really easy
For me to be the bad one
And I'd rather
Be the other

So while you talk about how bad he is
I'll be thinking about how you could be talking
About me

The way I chew my nails
And avoid eye contact
And seem fake overall

So you see
I know how he is
And I know how I am

And I'd rather be sitting here
Getting talked to

Than somewhere else
Getting talked about

On the Shore

I can't keep these hands up much longer
The cold's starting to get inside my lungs
I'm trying to float
But my body's soaking up too much
And my voice keeps coming back to me
Every time I shout

I think I might be out here
For awhile

So tell me--

How are things on the shore?

Is it nice there?
Is it cozy?
Is it warm?

Are you having yourself a picnic
A party, a tan?
While you watch another person drown?

Is it too much to ask
To come out here and get me?

Is it wrong to think
That I deserve some help?

I hate to disturb your conversation
With my screaming

But I'm losing this
I'm losing it
I'm almost lost

Meanwhile, you're sitting pretty
On the shore

But where am I safer?

Is my breath better off out here
Underneath the waves?

Instead of wasted on your ears
Telling you how badly
I need saving

I know you call me
The inconvenience

Well I never meant to inconvenience you
But tell me just exactly what
Was I was supposed
To do?

Boats go by
And nobody does anything
Sharks swim around
But it doesn't seem like they're interested
In a bite

I keep feeling
Like I'm halfway to falling
And halfway
To frozen

And you watch me
And you watch me
And I watch you watching me

Wondering when it's going to be
Until I sink, sink, sink

So you can

Go on enjoying your time
On the shore

Keeping the Illusion

This is really ridiculous
So I hesitate to even explain it
But I guess I have to explain it
Or you're waste to spend an inordinate amount of time
Asking me about it

I'll tell you why we can't see each other anymore
But you can't go on and on about how irrational my reason for it is
Because even though I'm fully aware it's irrational
You need to be fully aware of the fact that we're talking about dating here
And what about dating is rational anyway?

Right?

Right

Okay

The reason I can't see you anymore
Is because, when you told me that you went on a date with someone else
Even though we're not exclusive
And even though we've only been on a couple of dates
And even though I totally believe you when you say you didn't sleep with this other person
Effectively, what you've done
Is kill the illusion
Of what I thought
You and I could be

See, and again, I know this is unfair and crazy and stupid, but hear me out, okay?

Our first date went well, right?
And so, I started liking you right away
And you liked me
And even though we were both doing the whole cool and casual thing
I think both of us saw this headed for a relationship
But because we live in modern times
We have to continue to explore other options
Because getting serious that fast
Is considered a sign of immaturity, or old-fashioned, um, ness, or whatever
And I understand that
Like, I totally understand that
And I understand the reasoning behind it
Even though so many people just say to hell with it
And move in together after the first hour of talking
But, in today's society, we consider those sorts of people really trashy, or dumb, or whatever
Even though, I think, secretly, at least, for me, I kind of--

--want to be one of those people

Or at least
Have what those people have

This confidence
In love, or each other
Or, uh, yeah, whatever

I want that

BUT I still play this game
This, you know, dating game
Where I sort of take everything slow
And explore and discover and--

Like, when did we all become explorers, you know?

Like, how did dating
Become this 'exploring' thing
Where suddenly I'm like Columbus
And I have to keep finding new worlds
That aren't even the worlds I think they--

Ugh, never mind
I'm sorry
I'm off track

The thing is, when you told me
'Oh yeah, I went on a date with someone else'

I know you were just
Being honest
Totally honset
Because full disclosure is ANOTHER part of modern society
That seems to be healthy
And yet, really kind of isn't
Because if you hadn't told me about the date
I never would have known

I mean, I assume you're going on dates with other people
Because I am, and yes, that makes me a hypocrite
But again, in dating, we're allowed to sort of
Behave really poorly
At least, in our heads
Stop seeing people for stupid reasons
And it's like, oh hey, well, you're entitled--it's DATING

I'm getting ahead of myself

The point is, I would never tell you about my dates
To, you know, spare your feelings, or--

It's just, you know
It's just unnecessary

Like, it's totally unnecessary to do that
To let the other person know that--

That...

That what?

What am I trying to say?

Well, it's like--the illusion
You know how I mentioned 'the illusion'

The illusion is
That the moment you laid eyes on me
You were sure
That I was
The one

And I don't mean this from an egotistical standpoint
What I mean is that I think that's what we all secretly hope for
This, you know, this--being sure of someone
Or your connection with someone

And so the minute you meet someone
There's this hope

This hope that right away
You'll like them
And they'll like you
And they'll, more than that
More than liking you
Be certain of you

Even though you're not certain of them
Even though realistically it should be totally fine
For both of you to grow to like and care about each other over time
Even though that seems to be the more realistic and mature thing to have happen

Even though all of that is true
There's still the illusion
The dream, you know?

And we're allowed to have that, aren't we?
That hope that maybe
We'll get the fairy tale

We'll get the storybook romance
Where someone looks at us
And right away says 'That's the one!'

You telling me about that date
Though, again, is very mature and healthy
It's just--

It's just like you're saying--

I wasn't certain of you

I had to keep exploring

And even though, you know
I should get over it
And keep seeing you
And down the line
Get involved in a serious thing with you
And just accept the fact
That normal routine of things go--

Meet, date casually, date others while dating casually
Date more seriously, then become exclusive, I just--

I guess I'm just one of those people
Who wants to hold out
For the person
Who's going to know, you know?

The person who's just going to look at me
And know

Call it a dream
Or a fantasy
Or an illusion, or whatever
But...

It's what I want

And so I could tell you
That the reason we can't see each other anymore
Is because we're on different paths
Or you're too this or I'm too that
But this is the real reason

This is the honest reason
I'm being honest with you
Like you were with me

And so I'm sorry

But what it really is
Is that if it comes down to choosing you
Or choosing to keep my illusion

I'm keeping the illusion

Hey, and if it makes you feel any better
Usually, when I make this decision
I get the distinct feeling
That one day I might wind up
With nothing but the illusion

But I still take it

I still keep taking
That chance

Nothing is Free

Love may be cheap
Love
May actually be
The cheapest thing of all
But cheap still means you're paying something
Cheap don't mean free
So do I love you?
So what?
It ain't free
Nothing is free

Pleasure, any kind of pleasure
Costs, you know

You wanna see a movie?
You wanna sit on a beach?
You wanna pretend you have a right
To be somewhere you're not?

Somewhere you can't afford to be?

Well, that costs
And that's not cheap

See, you're one of those people
Who's been brought up
Raised, to think
That, when in doubt
It is possible
To turn to the things that are free
To live off the land, so to speak
To get by on nothing

Nobody's ever been able to show me
The land I can live off of
When I stop caring
About making sure
I'm taken care of
Nobody's ever handed me anything
And said, 'Here.  This is free.'

Now you give me keys
You give me balance
You give me warm showers
And a place where I can come and go
As I please, when I please
And you say, 'Take it.  It's free.'

It's not free
Whether or not you even know it
What you're offering
Isn't free

It's just a question
Of delayed payment

Because sooner or later
I'm going to have to pay for it
For all of it

And what you're offering
What's sitting in your hand
Like the most innocent little thing in the world?

Is not
Free

Nothing is

But I'll look at it

I'll look at it
And want it
And think about stealing it
And cry over it later
When I'm back at home

But that love of yours
You say is all mine
Mine for the taking?

No strings
No conditions?

Yeah, that's too much

That's more
Than I can
Afford

Cold Man Burning

Sometimes you get so cold
You fantasize about setting yourself on fire
Because the cold goes so deep
Bone deep, right?
Isn't that what they say?

So cold you gotta bite down on something
Or you'll take your tongue off
Without even thinking about it

I lick my lips and I taste blood
And from that point on

All I taste is blood

. . . . .

Down in August
It would get so hot
We'd take turns sitting in the fridge
With the door almost closed
While our brothers stood outside
Promising not to lock us in
Even though sometimes we did

And even when they did
We were so damn hot
We still chanced it

And sometimes when they did
We weren't even scared
But relieved
Because it felt so much better
To have the door all the way closed

And the cold felt good
For a long time
Before we realized
We were running out of air

I passed out in one of those fridges
Not because my brothers were mean
But because they heard the bell
From the fire station
And that meant
Somebody's house got too hot

. . . . . 

I remember my father
Standing outside the Brunsen's house
Chewing, like he always did
Shaking his head like the house was committing a sin
Just by being on fire

'Brunsen should have paid his rent,' my father said
And as a kid, I didn't understand
I didn't realize that what he said meant something

I didn't connect the dots about my father
Being the landlord
And the insurance money
And how bad a tenant Brunsen was
Having women in and out of his house
Drinking too much and making a spectacle out on the street
Calling our house at all hours saying he was going to withhold rent just because

All I remembered was my Uncle Joe
My father's brother
A lawyer

Talking about how hard it is to evict someone
Even when they don't pay their rent

Especially, he said, a cold bastard
Like John Brunsen

. . . . .

They didn't know if Brunsen was in the house

It was too hard to tell
And even bones will burn up
If you get 'em hot enough

They let the house burn to the ground
While my father stood by and watched

Later that night, he phoned the only number he had
For any relation to John Brunsen
A cousin or something
But the number was disconnected

I remember hearing my father laugh
Just once, one laugh
As he hung up the phone

. . . . .

I caught the chill before my brothers did
But somehow I managed to ride it
Not ride it out, because it never really left me
But just ride with it
Like somebody in the passenger seat
That never wants to get out

Both my brothers died that winter
Then my mother
But my father lived
The same way I did

With the cold inside him
That was never there before

And even the next summer
When the heat came back on
Some said harder than ever before

My father and I still had blankets wrapped around us
And we coughed up air so cold
We started wondering if our insides
Were colder than the insides of the fridge

When my father died
They sent me to live with my grandmother
And she managed to keep herself alive
Until I was eighteen

Then I was on my own

I could never work
Or do any sort of labor
Because of my condition

I got a few doctor's opinions
But you can only hear 'your guess is as good as mine' so many times
Before you stop inviting guesses altogether

Now I sit where I sit
And I sleep where I sleep
And people wonder
How the dirty guy in the park
Can wear that tattered old winter coat
When it's the middle of August
And the air's as hot as it was
The day it was coming off the fire
From Brunsen's house

I'd tell them, these people
These onlookers
Who look at me
The way everybody in town
Looked at that house
As it was going up in flames

I'd tell them if I could
That a cold man burned
Because of my father

And whether it's wrong or right
It's not for me to say

All I know is what's inside me

A cold that was never there before
Before that day
Before my father laughed at a dead man

Now I know my only relief
Would be stepping into a fire
And having someone
Lock the door behind me

The Sharks Discuss Eating Humans

"So you ate the guy?"
"No, he got out."
"Man, Ira, you really have to stop this."
"Stop what?"
"Trying to eat people."
"Why should I?"
"It's murder!"
"It's food."
"Seals are food.  Humans are complex beings."
"Have you ever talked to a seal?"
"Well--"
"Have you?  Because I have had some of the best conversations in my life with seals right before I ate them."
"So it's all the same to you?  Humans, seals, polar bears--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Who said anything about polar bears?"
"I was just--"
"I would never eat a polar bear.  They're an endangered species.  I'm not heartless, Don."
"But you'll eat people?"
"People aren't endangered!"
"What about a little girl?"
"A little girl?"
"Would you eat a little girl?"
"Who would leave a little girl swimming alone in an ocean?"
"It's just--"
"What kind of irresponsible parent would let their young daughter go swimming in shark-infested waters all by herself?"
"That was just an example of--"
"Well, that's a lousy example.  I mean, honestly, Don, I can't even imagine how a situation like that would occur.  And if it did, I'd probably just feel so bad for the daughter, I'd have to turn around and go home so I could see my own kids and remind them that there are some real sickos out there in the world who don't love their kids as much as I love mine."
"So you wouldn't eat her?"
"No, I would probably eat her then go home and talk to my kids."
"That's deplorable!"
"It's the circle of life, Don."
"Ira, there is no circle that includes a grown shark eating a small child."
"Again, I ask, where are the parents?"
"Maybe you ate them too!"
"All in one day?  I doubt it.  I get full very fast.  It's this fast metabolism of mine."
"Why can't you just stick to seals?"
"Don, we live in a time of scarcity.  The oceans are drying up."
"They're actually growing.  Global warming is melting the icecaps so--"
"The point is, one day we're all going to be swimming around in a desert.  So we have to eat what we can when we can.  We can't be picky.  Do you want to wind up like the polar bears?  Eating our own heads because we can't get to anything else?"
"Polar bears don't do that."
"It'd be a horror show!"
"I'm not sure it's even possible to eat your own head."
"All I'm saying is, you have to eat what's in front of you.  And if what's in front of you is a twenty-six year old surfer with milky white legs that taste like salmon, then that's what's for dinner."
"I'm not sure we can be friends anymore."
"Don, c'mon now--"
"No, seriously, you repulse me."
"Well.  I'm sorry you feel that way, Don."
"Best of luck with everything, Ira."
"You know it's just--"
"If you see me at the annual feeding frenzy at Seal Rock then--"
"I'll politely wave a fin and that'll be that."
"Great."
"Great."
"Okay then."
"You know, Don, it's pretty sad when little things like eating humans can come between friends."
"Well, that, and I just don't like you."
"Fair enough, Don.  Fair enough."

One Night We'll Walk Through the Snow

One night we'll walk through snow
I'll carry your bag full of books
You can tell me your day
We can talk about the soup we're going to make
When we get back home
The movies we're going to watch
The blankets we're going to lay under
The excuses we're going to use
When we call out of work tomorrow
If there's even work at all

We'll discuss the pros and cons
Of getting an unusual pet
I'll suggest a Peruvian groundhog
And you'll suggest an American hedgehog
And because you appealed
To my patriotism
I'll give in
And then we'll look at the dying houseplants
And say, with a romantic sigh--'Maybe next year'

We'll use our Monopoly board
As the foundation
Of a Popsicle stick castle
Complete with a billiard room
And a library containing the complete works
Of Joyce Carol Oates
We start naming Joyce Carol Oates books
And we go on for hours because she's written everything in the Universe

One out of every three books
Is a Joyce Carol Oates book

We'll make a snowman named Horace
And we will tell his tale to each other
And see how tragic we can make it
It's hard to put together now
But I'm sure it will involve
Polio, a train derailment, orphanages
And a cruel Dickensian aunt

We're both certain
That Horace is much happier
In our frontyard

We're happy that while some have jolly, happy Frosty
We have Horace, who doesn't need a hat to come alive
Just one of our manic storytelling episodes
And he will never, ever melt

What we cannot provide for ourselves in actuality
We supply in other ways
In stories
In snowmen
In promises

Next year the credit cards will be paid
Next year we'll catch up on rent
Next year a car will be purchased eliminating the occasion
Of a nice long walk in the snow

It's so hard to remember
All the things we want
And don't have

Because we love what we do have
So much

But it would be nice
To share this with another person

A person not made out of snow
Or Popsicle sticks

So maybe next year
We'll grow ourselves up
And become business people with ties
Or suburban people with sweaters
Or serious people with subscriptions
To the daily paper
Not just the Sunday edition

But in the meantime
We have blankets
And movies
And soup
And one sick day left
Until the end of the year

And we're going to take it

We're going to take
Our time

Too Late to Argue, Too Late to Sleep

It's too late to argue
Too late to sleep

I keep looking at the clock
Thinking sick days

I shouldn't have used
All my sick days

The broken glass is down so deep in the carpet
We should just rip the whole thing up
And learn to live
On hardwood floors

The dishes never got done
The garbage never got taken out
The pile of work I didn't do at work
Because I was so out of it
From the fight we had last night
Is still sitting on the kitchen table
Like a puppy I forgot to feed

The blinds are dirty
And the more light streams through them
The dirtier they look

There's blood in the sink
But I don't know whose it is

I don't see any cuts on you
I don't see any cuts on me either

Could we have had somebody else bleeding in here
Without our realizing it?

Hard to say, you know?

Hard to say

The coffeemaker's broken
The fridge is making a funny noise
The television is stuck on Channel 7
Which is made up of televangelism
And panel shows
Where somebody is always talking
About cracks in the sidewalk

The alarm clock won't stop going off
No matter how many times I hit snooze

The empty bottles
Are filling up the tops
Of every available surface

You slept on the floor
I slept on the couch
The bed is untouched

We are no longer
Worthy
Of the bed

Of comfort
Of stablity
Of normalcy

Of...

Fuck

Have I written this before?

I feel like I've written this before
I feel like I've written about this so many times
And each time
It seems new

'What fresh hell is this?'

Sleepiness, weariness, exhaustion

It's really the only man-made way
Of bringing about deja vu

I ramble
I mumble
I try to force myself to cry
The way people force themselves
To throw up

I just want this out of me
I want all these tears
And this frustration
And this bullshit

I just want
It
Out

But it's too late now
To be any kind of healthy

Too late to repair
Too late to retire
Too late to regroup
Too late to retreat
Too late to rebound

Too late, you know?
It's too late

And too bad, too

Really, really
Too bad

Second Spring

I.  This is our second spring
Summer held off
And winter left early
So we could meet here
And put wax on old wounds
Soften old, hard words
Forget what we needed to forget
And remember what we needed to remember

This is our second spring
This is our last second chance

II.  I think if I say 'I forgive you'
My mouth will dry up
And my tongue will turn to sand
My hair will turn to snakes
Like Medusa, or whoever had the snake hair
And even though I don't care about being wrong
As some people would say
I do care about you respecting me
I need to be respected by you

And something about forgiveness
Seems to say that it's all right

That it's all right if you don't respect me
When really
It's the last thing
That could ever be
All right

III.  The first time it snowed
I wondered who was helping you
Shovel it off the walkway
Out of the driveway
Making a path
From the door
To your car

I felt guilty knowing that it was supposed to be me
And that it couldn't be me

I felt bad about making you shovel snow
And every day after that
I found something new
To feel bad about

III.  I told them you were working
I told them you were away, just away
I told them you did something bad but that it would okay
I told them you loved them
I told them I loved them
I told them the truth

But most of the time
I didn't know
What to tell them
So I didn't tell them anything

And now that's what I regret
Sitting there not saying anything
When they begged me to

Because I just didn't
Have anything
To say

IV.  When would I rather see them?
Christmas or Thanksgiving?
Their birthdays or my birthdays?
Halloween or Easter?
All summer or every weekend of the year?
I'm trying to see how long it will take me
To make lasting
Memories

God, what sort
Of awful math
Is this?

V.  He said he hated me today
He didn't mean it
He means he hates you
He'll hate you later
Just thought you should know

VI.  Nobody talks to me anymore
I go whole days without being spoken to
I feel like I live in an invisible world
It makes me feel powerful and helpless

All at once

VII.  I feel like before I had all the words in the world
To say to you
And now I have to say just as much
With nothing
But silence

VIII.  On holidays I feel it
This sense that the world can start over
That wrongs can be corrected
That there's enough goodwill suspended amongst us
To turn all this around
And set it right

But there aren't enough holidays
And so instead I'm using this

This second spring

To make you look at me
And tell me
That it can't be

That it just can't be

I want you to say it now
Now that the world has stopped

I want you to tell it to turn
And keep turning
While we walk in different directions
On a globe, a sphere, a circle

Convincing ourselves
We'll never meet like this

Again

While I Wait for You to Tell Me

I'll play with my fork
And my food
And my hair

I'll fill up journals
With ranting
And drink stale beer

I'll make you think
That I've taken up drugs
When all I've taken up
Is growing out my hair

I'll act like I don't give a shit
While I wait for you to tell me

We'll take our vacations
And photographs with the kids

Visit your mom
My dad
Disney World
And Ohio

Who knows why we went to Ohio?

I didn't ask
I didn't want to know
I don't want to know
I want to know
I want, I want, I want

Who knows what I want?

Sometimes I think
I'm having an affair
With my day planner

I love when it instructs me
I love obeying it
I love putting things down in ink

Marking time
And telling it not to move

Chores have become
Pornographic to me

Oil changes
Unclogged pipes
Dirty bathtubs

And the list of things we need
Grows and grows
And we supply without question

New furnaces
And braces
And roller skates
And roofing
And carpeting
And a puppy

We really needed the puppy
And now we have it

And so we're good
We're great
We're doing fine

I'll let us be one big happy family
While I wait for you to tell me

I'll break things subtly and slowly
Wondering if you'll notice

I'll let the air out of the tires
Just to give you extra stuff to do
On days when you think
You have time free
To sneak in things

Things you think I don't know about

What made you think
That free time is so common
That I wouldn't envy you it
And wonder where it was coming from
And why there seemed to be so much of it
And, of course, obviously, I mean, come the fuck on
What it is you're doing with it

I ask you questions
I know the answers to

I talk to myself now
I ask myself questions
So that I can relearn
What it is to ask something
Without knowing what the answer will be

I surprise myself more now
That other people do

I imagine myself as an ice sculpture
And a pick hammers away at me
Making me into something beautiful

Cold, but beautiful

This is the compromise
I have to make

That I may keep my looks
But I will never know compassion
Or trust
Again

I practice praying
Praying this isn't true
While I wait for you to tell me

I write you notes
That go in boxes
That go at the back of the hall closet
Where we keep the Christmas presents

I say 'I'm going away'
Over and over again
Because I like how it sounds

I tell the kids I'm fine
And my mother I'm fine
And you that I'm fine

And I wait for somebody
Anybody
To notice
That I'm not
That I'm not fine

I wait for you to save me
While I wait for you to tell me

I wait for you
To feel guilty
Or anxious
Or afraid

And when you finally tell me
And hear that I've known all along
You'll go back and say I was playing with you
That I was having a grand old time
Being a bitch
With a secret

And that'll make you mad, won't it?

Because you're the only one
Allowed to have secrets, right?

And you'll say 'Why didn't you tell me you knew?'

And I'll be surprised
For the first time in a long time
Honestly surprised

That you don't get it
That you don't get it at all

I wasn't waiting to tell you
I was waiting for you
To tell me

Even Investment Bankers

Here's what you don't know:

Even investment bankers
Find the moon
Hard to ignore

At night, when a cloud rolls by it
They sit up in bed
Check to make sure their wives
Are sleeping soundly
Then bound out of bed
On all fours like Saint Bernards

They run out into their yards
And howl into the night
But with such a distinct howl
Only other investment bankers
Will know that the time has come
To take to the streets
And call out of work sick tomorrow
Claiming a cold came on them in the night
But that they should be fine by tomorrow

Through the streets they run
Meeting up as they go
Licking the tired, cold smell of money
Off each other's faces
Stopping at pay phones
To check for spare change
In the coin slots
Finding that old habits are hard to give up

When they reach the bank
They will stand upright
And walk through the doors
Into the lobby
Where the moonlit marble will inspire them
To take off their shoes
And skate around on their socks

Even investment bankers
Find the cool feeling of marble
Creeping underneath your socks
To be too pleasant a sensation
To resist for very long
And so they skate around and around on it
Until one of them slips and falls
Through a hole in the marble
And winds up back in his bed
Forgetting the next day to call out sick
And being extra-grumpy for the remainder of the week

The investment bankers left over
Will walk through the wall of the vault
Where they will pull out dollar after dollar
Coin after coin
Valuable after valuable
From safety deposit boxes
With little or no personality

When they have emptied everything out
Onto the floor of the bank
They will begin to fill themselves up with it
This immense wealth

Their bodies will dissolve
And in place of them
Quarters will form toes
Nickels will form eyes
Jewelry will become hair
And bonds will become bone

As these new people are composed
Even the investment bankers
Will worry that perhaps the new people
Will become too powerful

Perhaps they will follow the lead
Of their creators
And walk through the vault
And over the marble
And into the streets
And use the moonlight
To become not-real-people
Who resemble real-people
But are really made up
Of pennies and greed

And so the investment bankers
Will walk back out of the vault
Fall back down on all fours
And howl together
All at once
Emitting the most unpleasant noise
That will cause the money people inside
To explode into all their original forms
Causing quite a mess
But a necessary mess
For the alternative was simply too frightening

Then the investment bankers
Will touch noses
And walk home together
Upset that the night has to end so soon

They will sulk and pout
Even as they walk back into their homes
And their bedrooms
And lie down in their beds

Even investment bankers
Enjoy using a moon
As an excuse
To become something else

But they find it's hard
To walk too far
From who you are

Without being reminded
That even when you can walk through walls
And skate on marble

Tomorrow you'll be expected
To do the expected
And not
A penny
More

Soft Blue Lies

He thinks I don't notice
'Cause they're soft blue lies

Thinks I'll grow fond of them
And keep them by my bed at night

He says they're pretty
And a part of me agrees

I thought I knew what lies would like
But nobody told me
That they'd look like him

Nobody told me
I could lay my head down on them
And let them sing me to sleep

Nobody told me
They'd take in light
And shine it back at me

Nobody told me
They'd be so pretty
Or that they'd be so comforting
Or that they'd look so much
Like the truth

Sometimes I tell them things
Like they're wishing well coins
Like they're stuffed animals
Like they're magic mirrors
Like they can't hear them
And remember them
And use them against me

Sometimes I take them out
And show them to people

People who tell me
They're something else

Because they're fooled
The same way I used to be
Fooled

They tell me they're beautiful
They're soft
They're blue
They're harmless
They're happiness
They're anything but a pack of lies

And I let them tell me
Whatever they want to tell me

The same way I let him tell me
That I'm crazy, cold, cynical
Cowardly, and a liar

Liars only know how to echo
They only know how to look in front of themselves
And shout back at you
What you shout at them

You're a liar
You're a liar
You're a liar

And maybe I am
Or at least...

Maybe it would be easier
To be

A Bird Predicts the Weather

Well, I'd say...

It's probably going to rain

If I had to say

I'd go with...

Yeah, I guess rain

Normally when it rains
I like to fly inside of a barn

You know, when I can find a barn
Which isn't, you know, always easy
But...

I do like turtles
Just decided
Just decided, you know what?

Turtles are fun

I mean, sure
They're reptiles
I'm a bird
But I don't see why we can't have a good time

Like if we were to find a barn
In the rain
Hang out
Maybe play Scattergories or something
I'm sure we'd get along, right?

Hmm?

Oh right
The weather

...Yeah, I'd say rain

Or you know, maybe snow

Is it July?

If it's July
Probably not snow

But then again...

No, I guess I should play it safe here

You must be planning a picnic or something, right?

That's why you're asking me about the weather?

I'd say rain, not snow

Oh darn, I guess rain would mean
Your picnic's still ruined

Okay, well
Then let's say cloudy

Oh but then I'm lying to you
Darn
I'm really backed into a corner here

Because if I tell what I believe to be the truth
I feel somewhat responsible
For ruining your good time

And then if it doesn't rain
I've ruined your good time
AND for no reason

But if I lie about what I'm thinking might happen
Then you could be out there celebrating
Eating potato salad
In the gorgeous July weather
And suddenly it's pouring
And you're cursing that little bird
Who told you it wasn't going to rain
Even though he was pretty sure it was

Man, what a predicament

You know who never gets into predicaments like these?

Turtles

Because they just tell the truth
They don't care what the result is
They tell--the truth

Sometimes when I'm really in a quandary
Like, a puzzling moral quagmire
I just say to myself--

I wonder where I can find a turtle
To tell these nice people
That their picnic is going to have to be rescheduled

I mean, there are other weekends in July and--

Huh?

It's December?

Why are you having a picnic in December?
Is it a Christmas picnic?

That could be fun

Oh, you're not having a picnic

Well then why did you ask me about the weather when--

You didn't ask?

Oh gosh, did I just start predicting the weather again
Without anybody even asking me?

Man, I hate when I do that

I'm really sorry

Well anyway, there's probably going to be
A tornado this weekend

That's what I was thinking all along
But I didn't want to scare you
So I sort of lied
And I apologize for that

Do you think I'm going to get a turtle for Christmas?

I don't really know who would buy me one
But if somebody did
It would really fill me with joy

Anyway, I should go

I need to start looking for a barn to hide in
When that earthquake hits

Huh?

Oh, tornado, earthquake, sandstorm

It's all the same when you're in a barn

That's what I find anyway

But hey, that's just my opinion

The Swiss Family Robinson Gets Cable

Hello Father, how are you on this wonderful day?

The broken pulley?

Um, yeah
Yeah, yeah
I was going to fix it
But, uh--something kinda...came up?

Well, remember what a great job you did
Of setting up that satellite dish
Made out of coconut husks
So that we could get rain forecasts
Broadcast on this television we made
Out of a gutted sloth?

Funnily enough
We don't just get weather forecasts

It seems that we're also getting, uh
Cable

Yeah, it's pretty fantastic

Although, admittedly
We haven't really gotten to our chores
For the past, um, three days

Well, we meant to, Dad
I mean, we know you really wanted
The turnips harvested
Before monsoon season hits
But there was a 'My Fair Wedding' marathon on
And before we knew it
Eight hours had come and gone
And the turnips were still sitting in the ground

Well, it's not just me, Dad!

Remember how Fritz was supposed to go down
To Smoking Rock
And see if any other potential brides had washed ashore?

Apparently, he got sidetracked
By a riveting episode
Of 'True Life: I Like Puppets A Little Too Much'

Ernest and Jack did manage to build that hut you wanted
On the North Side of the Island
But that's only because they're practicing
To get on the next season
Of 'Survivor'

I tried telling them
That their entire life is 'Survivor'
But there was no reasoning with them

The clothes haven't been washed either
Because Mother and Jenny
Now claim to be addicted
To some show on TLC
Called 'The Albino Hairstylist's Big Southern Wedding'
Even though it's pretty much identical
To a show on the Style Network
Called 'A Girl With No Pigmentation Does Hair While Planning Her Nuptials in Dixie'

I admit there are small differences
Like one has an opinionated gay friend named Clojeann and one--

All right, all right!

I'm sorry, Father

I didn't realize maintaining our habitat
And ensuring our survival was so important
That it couldn't wait until after 'Emergency Puppy Rescue'

My mistake

I'll get to it right away
Just let me--

Well, I don't know
I mean, usually the puppy gets rescued
But it's hard to say

No, I don't know how it got on top of that Sonic Burger
Why don't you sit down for a minute
And we can find out

Oh, of course
Just a minute
That's all

Can't hurt, right?

The hole will only take a second to patch up
Besides, the wolves barely ever go near
That part of the fence anymore anyway

Besides, this is good for us

It's family time, right Father?

And family is important

Half a Butterfly

I'm evolving now, you see?

I'm a carriage
Maybe not golden
Maybe more like silver
Maybe more like rust
But at least I'm still not just a pumpkin
And that's the problem, pumpkin
I grew four wheels
And a pretty plush seat
But you're still the same

I'm a swan
With ruffled feathers
And a quack
From two years ago
But at least I know
I did something to myself
I brought myself up, a little
Or to the side, who knows?
But you?

You're still the same

I'm a monkey with thumbs
I'm a butterfly, even if I'm one with one wing
I'm a teapot with the spout taped back on

With the cheap tape, too

But I'm trying, you know?
And I'm winning
Winning in inches
But still winning

And I look at you
And you're missing your thumbs
You're a caterpillar
You're broken
And you don't even care
That's what kills me
You don't even care
That you're exactly the same
As you were
Two years ago

And what am I supposed to do, huh?

Stop myself?
Pull myself back?

You think I don't hear your friends saying--

'She thinks she's too good for you now
Too good for all of us.'

Why?

Because I got sick of looking
At the same shit
Day after day
Week after week
With nothing telling me
That we were headed towards something?

Didn't you notice?
Didn't you notice me
Pushing, and kicking
And trying

Trying to grow
Into somebody else?

I think...

I think you did

And you thought
That whoever I turned out to be
Was going to love you anyway

Well...

That was a risk
I'm not sure
You should have taken

Because even though I'm only
Half a butterfly
That's still halfway towards being something
Other than what I've been
These past few years

And once this other wing comes in
I'm flying, baby

I'm flying right out of here